Closer
by DollyPop12
Summary: Part of it was the oxytocin and the dopamine and serotonin that made him so inclined to feel Marie's skin, to press her to him, but most of it was simply her. (30 day NSFW Challenge)
1. Naked Cuddling

The sunlight filtered in through the slivers of space left by the curtains as the material fluttered away with the breeze, and he grumbled, curling in on himself as the slight chill passed through the room. Stein's brows furrow in sleep, arms instinctively tightening around something warm and plush and solid that brings comfort and a surprising amount of peace and heat. His poor circulation made him feel like even the smallest of temperature changes were massive, and he shivered from beneath the blanket, tugging whatever warmth was in his grasp even closer to his chest.

The small squeak that sounded off in his ear, however, sleepy and amused, made him groan more, the world starting to come into a hazy kind of focus, still all too blurry at the edges. His fingers dug into the softness of what he was holding, resulting in a small giggling and a "Franken," that was more affectionate than anything else.

 _Marie_ , his mind supplied, and with it, he pressed himself to her, reveling in her heat. She tugged on his hair slightly, calling his name out with the syllables stretched as though to bring him to the waking world, and he shook his head, denying the inevitable.

It was a losing battle. When his eyes fluttered open, immediately settling into a squint, he was convinced for a moment that the bright gold over his gaze was sunlight. He was certain of it until his mind caught up to him, Marie wriggling his his grasp, forcing her golden locks to shift over his face, soft and tangible.

And it _tickled_.

He made a sleepy sound in the back of his throat as he tucked his head down, hiding away from the world, and Marie giggled once more, her hands stroking down his spine.

"C'mon, sleepy. Rise and shine," she said, all the while lifting her chin so he had room to nuzzle beneath her jaw, closing his eyes to the morning, basking in the comfort of her body.

"Ten more minutes," he bargained, but he found that he had already awakened, his mind starting to chug along. He still needed caffeine, preferably in an IV so he could bring it directly into his bloodstream, but he had already started to run his hands over Marie's skin, more interested in lazing in bed for a few moments than rising from the warm cocoon of comforter and multiple pillows. One of Marie's legs, silky and bare was dragging up his calf, as though to tease, before she nudged him.

"We need to be at school soon," she informed him, arching when he let his fingers play over her lower back, ghosting his nails over the dimples.

"Call out," was the only solution he offered, finding that teaching was the last thing on his mind. They had stayed up all too late the night before, both of them irritable and annoyed at grading too many papers, arguably last minute, and needing to unwind.

Marie's hands ran over his shoulders and he hummed, remembering how the nails bit in the night before, the way she bucked and had to use him as leverage. His smirk stretched the stitches on his face and he pressed his cheek against her neck, nuzzling. He felt like jelly, relaxed and warm and comfortable, and he supposed she must have felt the aftereffects of the natural release of endorphins, too, because she only shook her head, saying "Franken," more in amusement than exasperation.

Ah, she was in a good mood. That would be the serotonin spike, he assumed. Were he in a more productive state, he'd certainly be tempted to get out some equipment for testing out just how much of that spike was Marie's natural disposition and how much of it was because of him.

Slowly, he shuffled downward, settling his ear against her breast and cataloguing her heartbeat as he brought his palms lower, cupping her ass. Marie hummed, squirming slightly as his hair tickled her jaw, but she seemed to cuddle to him, one of her legs between his, the other pressed against his outer thigh. Slowly, she let one hand tangle in his hair, her index finger tracing where his bolt met his skull, and he moaned lowly as he kneaded her flesh, arching like a cat and nuzzling between her breasts. He felt comfortable, at peace, _happy_ , and he rubbed his cheek against the soft of her, particularly enjoying the cushion of her chest.

She laughed at his reaction, as well as how his stubble scratched at her slightly, and she rubbed a small circle between his shoulder blades. "Someone's affectionate this morning," she commented, yelping when he squeezed her ass, pulling her to his frame.

"It's the oxytocin," he replied, his mouth muffled by her skin, and Marie tipped her head back as he ran his hands over her thighs, stroking over her, warming her up before settling his hands on her backside once more, fingers digging in slightly.

Well, that was a lie. _Part_ of it was the oxytocin, and the dopamine and serotonin, that was making him so inclined to feel Marie's skin and press her to him, but most of it was simply _her_. He wanted to be close to her, near in multiple ways. In every way. He felt her warm exhale move some of his hair and he could note how she was breathing against him, her plush, small frame pressed so flush to his scarred skin that he could feel her lungs expanding, pushing her ribs out slightly. When he closed his eyes, her soul was thrumming and happy, and he couldn't help but extend his own to softly push against hers, asking for resonance.

He knew she was smiling without even having to look up, even as he set a kiss her sternum, feeling her stroking over his arm. Her naked form against his was a reminder of what they had done the night before, and when their souls linked, he felt her nuzzle against his.

His eyebrows went up and he finally looked at her face, chest warming at the serene expression he witnessed, and Marie scratched at his scalp as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"Someone's affectionate this morning," he threw at her, almost dryly, but he knew she could see the slightest gleam in his eyes because her smile grew.

"It's the oxytocin," she responded, giggling even as he smirked, rolling her onto her back and coming over her in a straddle.

"That so?" he asked, untangling their legs and settling on his knees, one between her thighs and the other trapping her left leg.

"Mmmm," she hummed, fluttering her eye closed. "Must be."

His smirk softened as he looked at her, first at her face. The silvery scar tissue of her eye was no matter to him; she had once told him she wouldn't flip the eyepatch up for anyone else, too scared of being rejected. He lowered himself until he could set a kiss to the depressed eyelid, as he often did, as though to reassure her, and her soul warmed even further as though in reward. When he pulled back, it was just enough so that his eyes could skim over her bare form, previously obscured to him by the blanket wrapped around them both.

He must have been in a teaching mood, last night, because he noted how each mouth-mark on her was mapping her internal organs.

 _"Appendix," he'd said, kissing over her side, leaving a burning trail as he worked up to her breasts. "Lungs. . .heart." The kiss over that particular spot was more delicate than the rest, and his hand had slowed down to a butterfly of a touch, slowly circling her damp flesh, considerably further south. Marie arched against him, grinding down on his fingers to entice more friction, asking for sweet mercy._

 _"Oh, god, Franken, stop teasing!"_

He smiled wider at the memory, lowering his lips to her throat where a particularly dark hickey was marking her carotid artery. He'd sucked at the flesh atop it particularly hard when he was losing himself in her, he remembered, feeling each quickening thump of her pulse on his tongue had undid him. Marie sucked in a sharp breath when he kissed it, and he could feel her heartbeat growing faster as a result. His knee gently ground against her and her hands came up to his shoulders once more, nails biting in, so familiar.

Slowly, pulling away once again, he hovered over her, supporting his weight on his knees, which forced him to grind against her all the harder. Marie's soul thrummed in pleasure, her temperature rising as he smiled down at her, purposefully stopping all motion. He watched as her brows furrowed, her singular eye fluttering open, confusion and irritation evident in the amber orb.

"Franken?" she asked, raising a brow, and he only shifted his smile into a twisted smirk.

"Marie? Don't we need to be at school, soon?" he threw back, echoing her morning greeting. Instead of huffing, as he expected her to, Marie brought one of her sinfully soft legs up to drag against his outer thigh, hitching it higher and higher until her foot pressed into his lower back and she tugged him closer to her, grinning.

"Ten more minutes," she bargained, her voice lowering slightly as she kissed him on the nose, running her hands over his body, drumming her fingers against his ribcage and then down down down until she grabbed his ass, grinding against him.

He groaned, tilting his head to meet her at a better angle. "Call off," he insisted once more.

When she kissed him, biting at his lower lip, he assumed that this time she agreed.

* * *

 **Part 1 of the 30 day NSFW Challenge! More smut coming to a screen near you, soon.**


	2. Naked Kissing

He caught himself hard against his palms as he stumbled from the doorway, and Marie let loose the softest squeak as her back hit the wall. Stein had managed not to collide with her, and he swore that the house could have rattled from how hard he had slammed, though it was most certainly the thunder. But regardless of what had been the cause, Marie didn't seem to mind. Instead, she was focused with tugging aside the wet material of his shirt, standing on tiptoes to throw his collar open. The air was freezing against his skin, still wet from the rain, but Marie managed to toss his shirt to the side even as it clung to his skin, and it made a heavy sound when it landed in the corner.

He let his head fall back as she scrunched down, her hands frantically working at his pants, undoing the buckle and tugging, a frustrated sound seeming to echo through the otherwise empty lab when she couldn't remove them fast enough. Stein chuckled, his palms roving over the dripping material of her skirt, sliding down her zipper just as she managed to push his pants down to his ankles. He felt almost clumsy as he yanked at the material of her skirt, trying to simultaneously get out of his pants and shoes. Marie kissed over his chest, her lips trailing over the scar that extended diagonally across his torso as he struggled, and she seemed to get a kick out of his dilemma, because she giggled softly as she shimmied out of her own clothes, giving him the opportunity to finally kick out of his pants.

Marie's fingers were already working at the material of her shirt, but he scrunched the fabric up so he could grasp her around the waist, bringing her up suddenly so he could kiss her. She gasped, immediately clutching onto him for leverage, her legs wrapping around as he settled her against the wall, nipping at her lower lip. He only pulled away when she looped her shirt over her head, throwing her arms around his neck when it fell to the floor.

Connecting their mouths once more, he pressed one hand to her lower back, anchoring her as he moved from the wall, making his way to their room, instead. It wasn't as though the act of it was difficult; Marie was barely four foot eight, she weighed one hundred pounds soaking wet, as she was now, so it was near effortless to support her with only one arm, the other roving over her side, desperate to catch more of her skin. He barely had to focus on not falling, his hand cupping her ass as he took the stairs two at a time. With each movement, she bounced against him, disconnecting their mouths so she could pant in his ear. He gave her backside a firm squeeze when he feelt her lips working over his neck. She wrapped her legs around him tighter, wriggling up so she could kiss his shoulder, pressing her cheek against him as he stroked down her spine.

When he finally made his way to the top floor of the lab, he almost careened into the wall, and he had to release his hold on her waist to catch himself once more, unwilling to see Marie take the brunt of yet another stumble. But she didn't even flinch, trusting him completely, only sucking at the skin beneath his jaw, her teeth gently grazing. The low, throaty moan he gave off as she did so encouraged her to run her nails over his back, and he arched to her, barely keeping focus to bring them into their room.

How he managed to walk to the bed without falling flat on his face was a miracle, because the place was a mess on a good day, let alone when the power had cut out and he had only the faint, golden glow of Marie's skin to guide him, but he managed to set her down on the bed, the two of them bouncing slightly as he settled on his knees.

He bit his lip as he looked down at her, watching the way her chest heaved. Slowly, he let his fingers come to her ribcage, feeling how she was breathing, and she fluttered her eye shut at his touch, arching to him. The scrap of smile on his face stretched as he dragged his touch down, memorizing the soft way she said "Franken," the line of her body as she melted to him. He came to her hips, fingertips breaching the line of her panties, and he hunched over, giving an open mouthed kiss to her navel.

"Can I?" he asked, tugging slightly as he trailed his mouth down, breathing warm air on her skin. He let his gaze flick up, taking in how she nodded, still keeping her eyes closed as she basked in what he was doing to her, but he only smirked, sucking at the flesh of her belly, leaving a darkening mark as she cried out. "Hmm? Marie?"

"Yes!" she panted out, one arm stretching over her head to grab the headboard as leverage, the other coming to his hair as she urged him on. She wriggled her hips around and he finally dragged the soft material of her panties down, pulling away from her as he did so he could take them off of her. The fabric dragged over her soft, wet thighs, whispering against the nylon of her stockings when they reached her knees.

He settled back, tossing the material to the side as he grasped the top of her thigh highs, one of his hands holding her leg under the knee as he tugged the cloth off, fisting the material as he looped it off her foot. As he did the same to the other leg, her eye fluttered open, the warm amber barely noticeable from how blown wide her pupil was. Stein watched as Marie worried her lip between her teeth, swallowing as he stroked over her legs, moving on to the other. As soon as her second stocking was off, discarded somewhere in the room, he locked his gaze with hers, cupping her heel as he brought his lips to the side of her ankle, kissing her delicately.

She whimpered when he did, grasping the sheets, and he noted how her chest was rising and falling more rapidly. He hid his smile by kissing his way to her calf, letting his other hand run up her outer thigh. Marie spread her legs for him as he came closer to the apex, his chapped lips grazing her creamy skin. She was eager, it seemed, because he could see how she was puffy and pink, no doubt slick for him.

Finally, he allowed both hands to come to her hips, straining his eyes to continue looking up at her. She breathed his name, arching up, but he only kissed one hipbone, then the other, as he continued mouth marking her to the sternum. She writhed beneath him, tipping her head back as he came to her bra, nuzzling between her breasts even as his hands wormed under her, unclasping her in one swift click.

He shivered when she ran her silky legs against his, catching the waistband of his boxers and dragging them down. Quickly, he pulled away from her, both his eyebrows up as he stared at her smug grin.

"What?" she started, something sparkling in her eye, "It's hardly fair I'm naked and you're not," she commented, using her feet to bring his underwear to his knees. The chuckle that bubbled out of him was muffled when he kissed beneath her jaw, trailing a line to where her jugular was. He kicked his boxers off, barely able to hear how they made a thick plop against whatever they landed on. He was too busy removing Marie's bra, looping the straps off of her arms and pressing himself close to her body the second they were both bare.

For a moment, he just felt the thump of her heartbeat against his tongue, and Marie's arms came around him, one hand tangling in his wet hair as she made quiet, pleased sounds whenever he sucked on her pulse. He knew she could feel the the hard line of him against her hip, and it felt like her hands didn't know where to rest, since he felt her palms stroking over his arms, against his shoulders, to his back, roving around to his ribcage.

Finally, when she settled her touch on his chest, right where his heart would be, she hummed happily.

"It's beating so hard. . ." she said, her voice thin and breathy from his ministrations, her other hand stroking his hair, and at that, he pulled away from her, looking at the hickey that was blooming over her skin. She smiled at him, though it could very well be a smirk as her manicured fingers tapped against his chest. "Do I still make you nervous?" she asked, blinking up at him.

He made an amused sound deep in his throat, gently cupping her left breast and rolling it around, thumbing her nipples. She inhaled in, arching up to his touch, but he carefully moved his hold so that he could press his hand slightly above, able to feel her own heart thumping.

"Do _I_?" he asked, nuzzling behind her ear as he inhaled in the scent of rain and her shampoo. Marie was both the calm before and after the storm, and the storm itself. She always carried the smell of rain about her. Perhaps it was a result of living in Oceania for so long, or maybe it was just her lightning soul naturally enhancing her scent, but he found it calming, grounding. And yet, he couldn't deny that he was nervous, a bit. It was strange to explain, feeling so comfortable with another person, with her, and yet always feeling some kind of fizzy emotion in his stomach, regardless.

Gently, Marie let her touch over his chest drop so she could settle her hand over his, grasping his wrist and bringing it up to her mouth. He hovered over her so he could watch what she was doing, his eyes half-lidding when he saw, felt, her bring his palm to her cheek. She leaned into the touch before she turned her head, kissing each of his fingers, nuzzling into his grasp.

"Yeah. . ." she told him, and he grinned down at her, feeling oddly relieved that he could still make her heartrate skyrocket even after all the time they'd spent together.

Slowly, he shifted his hold so he could hitch beneath her eyepatch, sliding it off her face, and with that, they were both completely bare. Nowhere to hide, nothing to hide behind. Marie inhaled in sharply, bringing both her hands to his sides, feeling the scar tissue that was so characteristic over all of him just as he traced over the scar she had, the jagged lines over her depressed eyelid.

He felt her soul flutter against his and he gently pushed his own to hers as though in reassurance. It was silly of her, as it always had been, to feel so concerned over his reaction to what was beneath her patch. He had seen it a million times, seen worse, but he still lowered his mouth so he could kiss over her eyelid, still cupping her cheek with one hand. She breathed out in relief, stroking down his spine, and he found that something inside of his chest swelled, some welling of emotions he would never be able to understand that inspired him to kiss the eyelid of her perfectly functional eye, too. Then, her forehead, trailing down to her nose.

Her giggle was sweet and bubbly, relaxed and reassured as he kissed over her cheeks, from one ear to the other, dragging his touch so he was cupping her jaw instead of her cheek, and he purposefully skipped over her lips to kiss her chin, first.

Finally, when he was certain that he had pressed his lips to every inch of her face, he moved away, maybe an inch or two, so he could look her in the eye. Her soul was thrumming in joy, and he finally realized that she was glowing even brighter, her wavelength making her skin flush gold, and he bumped his nose against hers at the fact.

After a beat, when her touch came to his damp hair once more, he lowered himself until their lips were barely brushing, and her breath tasted sweet, likely from the tea she had before they'd gone into the downpour. He held himself like that for a moment, seemingly too long, because Marie made an affectionately exasperated sound.

"Are you going to kiss me?" she asked, and there was no mistaking the breathiness in her voice as her free hand rubbed his side. He hummed, knowing she could feel the sound reverberate against her since they were pressed so close.

"I'm still deciding," he replied, his stitches stretching from his smirk. Marie made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle, bumping their noses once more. It took a special kind of person to put up with him, he knew, and he was ever-grateful Marie was that kind of person. He nuzzled against her, rubbing his thumb over her lower lip as she clutched him to her, nothing but the sound of the storm and their mingling breaths in his ears, nothing but her in his world. Her warm wavelength, her heated skin, her tender body, her breathy, high voice.

"Can I kiss _you_ , then?" she asked, and he hummed once more as though debating, letting his eyes shut as he moved to close the final few spaces between them. Marie tipped her chin up, meeting him halfway as she giggled, and he sucked at her cupid's bow, holding her face in one hand as he tangled the fingers of the other in her sopping wet hair. Slowly, as his tongue slipped against her lips, he felt her smile stretch, and she opened her mouth to him, accepting him inside eagerly.

* * *

 **Because I'm a sucker for the smoosh.**


	3. First Time

The world seems to stop for a few days as the DWMA gets fixed, as Death City reconstructs and heals, as her students heal.

She feels useless.

She knows it's irrational, is irritated at herself for feeling that way, but she feels it, all the same. Rachel is returned to her parents, her medical exam coming back clean of any dubious activity that would churn Marie's stomach, Azusa has gotten her notice to return to her station in Asia.

And Marie is stuck in limbo.

She is on the middle of a teeter and she doesn't know where she's going to step. All she knows is that Maka is in the infirmary, Crona is awaiting trial, again, Death has had a chunk ripped away from him, Spirit is in bandages from head to hips, and all her students had been in the ICU for at least two days as they recovered.

And she couldn't do _anything_.

Her healing wavelength could only help emotionally, not physically. Physical healing was left up to Stein, who hadn't eaten or slept while he had been with Medusa, who likely hadn't eaten or slept while he worked at the hospital, healing the children, who had circles under his eyes so dark he looked hollow.

She had barely seen him since they came back to the DWMA, since she ran off on a shard of hope that he was still in a place where he could be found.

She could have died, trying to find him.

She almost did.

Marie feels her bones and her skin and her very brain ache with the phantom residue of Stein's Soul Menace. The bruises down her spine and the back of her arms and legs are a sickly purple color, the edges shifting into green, into yellow. The pillar had rattled her head around so bad, she thinks the concussion lasted for four days. Her mouth still tasted sour.

She thinks it's a good thing they hadn't seen each other for a while. She didn't want him to see her so wrecked. It was easy enough to hide it when he was concerned over other things, when he was focused on getting Crona proper medical attention, when the Kishin was looming. She could pretend that she wasn't fractured and wounded all over from fighting him.

He would never forgive himself if he knew.

Would he?

She didn't know how he would react if he found out that he had thrown her six feet into solid rock. She doesn't want to find out. No, definitely better that he was in the dark to her condition, treating their…his students, administering morphine and checking wounds more severe than her own.

When they had first walked to the infirmary with Rachel and Crona, with the sacrificial lambs slung over their shoulders, walking back from the Snake Woman, he had asked if she had any untreated wounds.

She hadn't said anything, only spared having to by Crona's weak cough, and that had been the end of the conversation.

In fact, it had marked the end of most conversation that wasn't about other people's wounds and fights and pieces that would have to be picked up, later.

Stein didn't know she quit the DWMA.

Or maybe he did. Maybe he had always known. Maybe he thought she was stupid for quitting. Maybe that was why he wouldn't talk to her.

Death, the lab felt so empty without him.

She hated spending time there when he was gone. Sometimes, she woke up in the middle of the night with her heart in her throat, afraid he was gone, again, and when her soul reached out for his, he was never there.

That was always the most bitter. She had to remind herself that he was at the hospital, that he was winning himself back into the good graces of the DWMA, that he was proving he was fit to teach.

The madness wavelength was eradicated. Medusa was gone, scattered like ash in the wind.

Marie's job was done.

She had done it well, she thinks. Done it too well.

She doesn't want to leave. She knew the lab more intimately than she knew her apartment back in Oceania, where she had left multiple picture-frames, her beat up coffee table, the boy who always told her she looked lovely when she was getting tea.

She doesn't want to leave but she has to. She can't live in limbo, unknowing of what to do. She needs security. She needs to be in a place where she is wanted.

Stein didn't need her. She knew that from the beginning.

She didn't know if he wanted her there, either.

* * *

Weeks later, after she has put in her Death Scythe application and packed up her bags in a lab Stein hadn't stepped foot in since he ran away to Medusa, she finally sees him as she is walking out of the Death Room and he is walking to it.

It aches. It aches to look at him, tired and unkempt, but definitely accomplished. Maka's ribs had healed and he had stitched up all her wounds with no scarring. At least, that's what she hears from Soul, who visited Maka every day, who only bumped into Marie while he was on his way to see Maka, again. That was what she heard from all her students…ex-students, who had survived because Stein had hands that could heal anyone.

Her Meister, the genius.

Ex-Meister.

He must have known she was leaving, again because he had the same look on his face as he did years ago, when they were partners for the first time, 16 and 17 respectfully, after she consumed the Witch's Soul they got together after 99 other souls that padded her hips. The same look after he helped develop Izuna, after he drew the arrows on the floor of the lab. After she became a Death Scythe and got her station and was told she was ready to go for Oceania.

She hadn't known what to say to him, back then. She didn't know what to say to him, now. Last time, he'd let her leave without a goodbye. Last time, she'd gone to the airport alone, cried in her seat, off to a distant country without even a hug or a touch on her shoulder.

She refuses to cry, this time. She was a grown woman and he owed her nothing and she expected nothing from him. She went after him, walking deserts and worlds to find him of her own volition.

But when he opens his mouth, she can't help but be hopeful that he will ask her to stay. For once in his life, she wants him to tell her something blatantly, without her having to decipher it.

All he says is her name.

And she just smiles, and she knows it looks thin.

"Welcome to the world of the living," she jokes, feeling like she is forcing cheer into the air.

His lips twitch up for a single moment, but she knows it's just to humor her.

"Is…ah, is everyone…okay?" she asks, instead. Anything to cut the silence.

Anything to shift attention.

"Healed enough to go to their respective homes," he tells her, his hands holding various files, the fingers drumming on the paper, slightly.

"And you?" she asks, concerned.

He seems to appreciate that.

"Healed enough to go to the lab, as well."

This time, she's the one to quirk the smile for his benefit.

"Well, the lab misses you."

She did, too.

He looked at her oddly, as though glancing through her, trying to read her, and she notices that he's looking at her soul. The peek isn't surprising, but she looked up at him and quirked a brow.

He at least had the decency to meet her gaze. "Ah, sorry," he said, though he didn't sound it, and this time, she thinks there was something sad on her face.

Sad in her bones.

"It's okay," she replied, chewing her cheek for a moment, "I don't mind."

He nodded at her, putting his free hand into his labcoat pocket, and she could only look at him for a few moments, blinking rapidly.

Death, couldn't he just _talk_ to her? _Ask_ her something? Ask her _anything_? She had tried visiting him but he had been running around with Nygus in their attempts at healing the students, neither of them free every time she tried.

If she waited any longer to talk, she would just start saying things she didn't want to blurt out.

"You must need to see Death," she said, the assumption ringing in the air. Why else would he be in the hallway if not for a medical report? He looked at her, his eyes tracing over every feature of her face as he slowly nodded.

"Yes."

"Ah, I won't keep you, then," she told him, smiling sadly and starting to walk. "Besides…my flight is tomorrow and I should really get some sleep."

As she walked past him, she could envision what could happen if she were in a movie. He would reach for her shoulder and whirl her around and she would look at the face of the man she had once loved in middle school and loved again as a grown woman. He would tuck her hair behind her ear and tell her to stay. He would kiss her, tell her he was sorry for all the grief she went through.

If it were a movie, she would gasp as he turned her, would grab his upper arms. She would melt to him. She would wrap an arm around his neck and hold him to her like she never wanted him to go.

They didn't do any of those things. Because it wasn't a movie; it was her life. And life was never so wonderful as dreams could be.

As she walked by him, their arms brushed, and she could feel something like hesitancy from him. As though he were ready to say something, or do something.

"Marie," he began, and she whirled around so fast she thought she got whiplash. The breath in her body compressed, her heart beating hard.

For once she just wanted to be the girl who got her happy ending. Just once. She wanted the movie. She wanted to believe, to hope.

"Sorry for keeping you," he said, instead, and she thinks he wanted to say something else, but he didn't.

He didn't.

Because she wasn't the girl with the happy ending. Not then. She was always the bridesmaid and never the bride.

Her voice was small when she told him, "It's okay," and she turned back around, walking to the exit where nothing waited for her but bags she would carry to a different continent. "I don't mind."

She was lying and he knew it.

But he said nothing nothing nothing.

* * *

She thinks it's the middle of the night when he wakes her, and she's probably a mess, with her hair in her tear-stained face and her sleeping shirt slipping off her shoulders. She had been sleeping in his bed for the past few days, just wanting to feel close to him in some way, even if it was artificial. He so rarely slept in a bed, so rarely left his computer, but the pillows smelled of him: antiseptic and clean soap and cigarette smoke.

But she is a Death Scythe and when she feels a touch on her shoulder, she cannot help but wake up despite how lulled and calm she is by the scent of the sheets.

A shame, too. She had barely gotten to sleep.

Were she anyone else and were he anyone else, seeing him right in her face would startle her so bad she'd scream, but as soon as her mind realized it was Stein, she was put at ease. She had an instinctive positive reaction to him.

She knows her body does, her soul. He had flared his up so as not to startle her, but she is still tired and her voice slurs when she talks.

"Stein?" she asks, rubbing at her eye, thankful that her eyepatch was still left on. She was usually better with removing it for sleep, but, over the years, it was just such a constant that she often forgot she was wearing it. All the better, she thought, since he wouldn't have to see the scar over the depressed eyelid that marked where she is missing an eye. With her only remaining eye, she looks over at him, taking in his expression in the dim light. He has a peculiar look on his face, one that seems both observant and…gentle. He still looks tired, but something has set in his eyes.

"Stein?" she repeats, this time more clearly, and she finally notes that his hand didn't leave her shoulder.

"You're in my bed," he replied simply, and she feels some part of her blush in mild embarrassment. But the majority of her was irritated at the lack of sleep, annoyed that it was one of the first things he was saying to her.

She huffs. "I hope you didn't wake me up for _that_ …my flight is in-" she takes a peek at the alarm clock she dragged in, yawning.

"Five hours, twenty-three minutes," he informs her, and she's shocked that he knows, immediately looking back at him, feeling the confusion bubble inside of her.

"…yeah."

"Death told me," he said, answering the question she hadn't vocalized.

"Oh," she answers, feeling fidgety. He's still looming over her and she's still lying down and she can't help but feel her heart start to thump a little harder. "Yeah…sorry. I just…I packed all my things up so I needed to sleep somewhere."

"It's okay," he said, and she was jolted by the fact that her own words were being thrown at her, what she had told him at the DWMA when she walked away. "I don't mind."

She looked away. "I didn't think you'd be home."

He didn't say anything, but he still had his palm on her shoulder and she thinks if he stopped touching her, she'd be cold.

"I am." He waited a moment, the world narrowing to just them as he lowered his voice. "Thank you."

At that, her eyebrows went up. Franken Stein, THE Doctor Franken Stein, thanking someone? It must have been a miracle. But when she looked back at him, she knew it wasn't thanks for her general concern.

She went through hell and back, finding him, but she did it of her own volition. He had never asked her to do so, no one had. He didn't have to thank her. Still, it was nice to feel appreciated, nice to know that he cared enough to put himself out of his comfort zone to make her feel appreciated.

This time, she didn't tell him it was okay.

"You're welcome," she said, instead, and he nodded.

It still didn't explain why he woke her, though, why he dodging her initial question.

She blinked up at him, waiting a few moments to say something. The chuckle that bubbled from her was nervous and she didn't know why.

"Well…I guess I could go to the couch or something. You must be really tired."

"No, no need," he told her, and if she didn't know any better, she could swear he was leaning in closer to her.

"Of course there's a need," she threw back. "You've been out for weeks. And I leave in the morning, so I need to go to bed."

His eyes flashed in something akin to pain at the mention of her departure, and she almost reared back from how unguarded it was.

Had she hurt him? How? What had she done?

"Yes," he said, though it didn't seem like he was agreeing with her. And, if he was, she didn't know what he was agreeing, to. "Yeah, yes, of course," he continued, and his clumsy speech made her brows furrow and her heart throb.

"Stein?"

"I can occupy the couch," he said, lifting his palm from her shoulder for the first time since he came in.

Death, she felt so stupid when she just wanted him to touch her again.

"But I'm in your bed! That isn't very fair."

He only shook his head, and through the dim lighting, she saw him walk away and hesitate at the door. She was tempted to huff again at how stubborn he was being, but she only watched as he stopped in the doorframe.

"Stein?" she asked, tired of his hesitation, the mystery.

"…The key is under the mat…if you ever return."

Her breath hitched in her throat.

Not only because he'd keep the WELCOME mat she dragged to the lab, the one he said he hated, but the fact that he was anticipating a return.

She always felt like she had to decipher him, and she exhaled shakily.

"You'll…welcome me back, later?"

He turned around, his side twisting so he could look at her, and she sat up in his bed, looking at him with a wide eye. He seemed to chew over the phrase, and after a few moments, a piece of her sunk. Of course he was just saying it to offer pleasantries. Who did she think she was? What did she want to happe-

"I welcome you, now."

Her heart stopped.

Oh.

 _Oh._

Why didn't he just say so from the beginning? It could have saved her a lot of grief.

"…you…"

He was looking away from her, appearing awkward and every bit like the boy she had once known, before he grew into a myth of a man. It hit her once more that even he had trouble talking to people, talking to her. Even he could be scared.

Even he could be nervous.

He was just human. Just an awkward man looking for direction just like everyone else.

"You want me to stay," she breathed, and she almost didn't believe it, but he looked back at her and there was a vulnerability on his face, the same that she had seen when she appeared in his soul, holding her hand out to him.

"What I want is irrelevant-"

"Bullshit," she said, quietly. How could he not know that the only reason she was leaving was because she didn't know if he wanted her there? Didn't he understand how deeply she wanted to stay? How much she wanted to just bewith him? But she couldn't if she didn't have security, if she wasn't sure.

"Do you want me to stay?" she asked. She was tired of tiptoeing, she was sick of having to analyze everything he said, and she threw the covers off of herself, standing up though her bare legs wobbled, and she was glad that she had healed enough that he wouldn't notice the bruises she'd gained from being thrown into the pillar.

He seemed to shrink for a moment, but being 6 foot 10, there wasn't much to make him smaller, and she stepped forward until she was in front of him. Maybe she was being dramatic. Maybe she was being silly. But she would unpack every bag she'd packed and rip up her plane ticket if he just told her he wanted her.

"Stein," she said, ducking close to him so she could look into his eyes, and a piece of her wondered if she was being too pushy, too forceful.

She didn't care.

"…Do you want me to stay?"

He looked down at her, taking in a deep breath. "Do you?"

"Yes," she replied, not a trace of bashfulness evident in her voice. Either she put it all on the table or she regretted it for the rest of her life. In the worst case, he would find her horrific and she could retreat to Oceania and never see him again.

The outcome ached inside of her and she bit her lip, barreling on. "Yeah…I wanna stay. If you want me to."

If you want me, too.

The nod he gave was slow, a nod of understanding, she thinks. He had always had a hard time talking to others if it wasn't medical jargon or pranks, so she didn't blame him. But she just needed an answer. Any answer. A 'yes'. A 'no'. A 'get out'.

She sighed, feeling drained, and weary, and so damn tired.

"But if you don't want me to, if you don't mind, I need to sleep. My flight leaves soon and I don't want to be jet lagged."

Her voice sounded dead even to her own ears, but at that, she whirled back around, feeling silly and foolish, and so very, very exposed. She swallowed hard as she grabbed up her covers, the one thing she hadn't put away that she kept on his bed, and only when she heard the door click shut did she let her head hang forward, blinking back wetness from her eye.

 _Good going_ , she thought. Every ex-boyfriend she always had told her she came on too strong and there she was, coming on too strong.

She wasn't ready for his hand on her shoulder, and she gasped, whirling around and almost falling back onto the bed when he was stooped to her eye level. He steadied her, making sure she wouldn't wobble backward, and all he said was: "Yes."

It took her a moment to understand that he was answering her question.

She could only understand when he leaned forward, his hand moving from her shoulder to her neck, and she thinks everywhere he touched her goosefleshed, her body yearning for him to hold her.

"Stein?" she breathed out, and she was so damn hopeful. He could break her if he wasn't careful, right there.

Because he was so close to her face, she thinks if she still had both eyes, she'd go cross eyed.

When all he answered her with was her name, low and warm and wanting, both her hands came to his chest as she leaned to him.

The room was dark. It was the middle of the night. But she could still see him take in a shaky breath.

"Marie…do you want me to-"

Yes. Yes, she damn well did.

And she was sick of waiting.

One of her palms came up from his chest to cup the back of his head, and she stood up on tiptoes, bringing their faces together and cutting him off mid-sentence.

And for a moment, he didn't do anything, and the world was frozen in place.

He shattered it when his free arm wrapped around her, around her shoulders, pressing her closer and breathing hard through his nose as he kissed her back.

His lips were chapped, his hold on her firm, and when he opened his mouth to her, he groaned from somewhere in his throat and her legs felt weak at the sound. She didn't know how long they stayed like that, with him hunched over to accommodate for her far smaller form, his hand stroking down her back, his lips warm and welcoming on her own, but when she pulled away, she thinks it wasn't long enough.

Breathing hard, she pressed their foreheads together.

"Yeah," she said, bumping their noses. "Yeah, I want you to-"

This time, when he tilted his head and kissed her, the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed, and when she fell back to the mattress, he didn't steady her to keep her upright, only following her and catching himself on his palms. Marie gasped, and it gave him ample opportunity to slide his tongue along her lower lip, feeling her heat up beneath him. The temperature of the entire room seemed to rise as he traced over her teeth, exploring her mouth meticulously and Marie moaned softly, pursing her lips and sucking on his tongue.

Stein's hips bucked against her, and she almost felt dazed, her mind hazy as he shifted. She felt his hand in her hair, the fingers looping through her mess golden strands, and she grasped onto the back of his shirt for some kind of leverage.

It couldn't be happening. She could barely believe it. Part of her was entirely convinced that it was a dream, a fantasy, the likes of which she had as a girl when she couldn't even dare to hope that he would reciprocate her feelings. So she kept her eyes shut as he groaned his pleasure, and, slowly, he settled on his knees, his hands coming to her sides with a meticulous slowness that he saved only for the most delicate and confusing of experiments.

But Marie was no experiment; Marie was warm and responsive and alive.

And she could feel how his heart was nervously fluttering. The giddiness started to overwhelm her. Franken Stein was kissing her. _Franken Stein_ was kissing _her_. On his bed, no less, in his lab, while she was in nothing but a thin sleeping shirt. The air felt thick as she took a deep breath in through her nose, tilting her head to kiss him harder, and her hands ran over his arms, stroking softly as he seemed to pour every emotion he claimed not to have into the kiss.

When his hands came to her hips, she opened her mouth to him, grinding against the leg he had between her own, and he dragged his touch upward, shoving her shirt with the motions, exposing her. The kiss was fierce, heated. She didn't think she ever wanted to stop kissing him. She would breathe him in until it was the only air she knew; even if that air was stale as cigarette smoke, even if he smelled of sterilizing solution and hospitals, she would suck it all down.

It was all intensifying so fast, her head was spinning. But she liked it, wanted it, had wanted it for such a long time. And as his nails softly came over her sides, she squirmed slightly, smiling against his mouth.

* * *

Marie had barely even touched him, yet, but he already felt like he was spiraling out of his skin, hurtling toward an abyss that threatened to swallow him whole. Marie was warm. She tasted like tea, like her strawberry toothpaste. She was plush and soft and pliant beneath him and he didn't know what to do. He felt her skin beneath his palms and felt like his body was tingling.

For a brief moment, his reaction frustrated him: he had felt flesh before. Flesh just as soft as her own, flesh just as warm, ready for a scalpel, but he didn't want to dissect her. The very idea of it made his spine shudder unpleasantly, a strange contrast to the building heat in his body at being allowed to touch her. Because that frustration couldn't last while he kissed her, while he let his curious hands rove over her, while she let his curious hands touch her.

The confusion was still there, somewhat, but it was in the back of his head. Asking why, if he had experienced all these motions, before, all the actions, was it so different this time?

Because it was Marie, he knew. Marie who came for him, Marie who trusted him, Marie who let his usually capable hands go clumsy as he lifted the hem of her shirt, scrunching the fabric underneath her breasts as he traced over the curve of her waist, fingertips drumming over her ribcage. When she squirmed in reaction, he kept drumming, licking at her lower lip and breathing hard through his nose.

He only broke away when Marie did, letting loose a small giggle, and he looked down at her, focusing once more. He was too in his head, locked away in his thoughts, that he hadn't even noticed the way her smile seemed to bloom over her face.

For a brief moment, he wondered if she was laughing at him, and he felt his ears heat up. But as he paid more attention, eyes tracing over her body, he noted that she only squirmed when he traced over her side, and he lifted a brow, a smirk stretching his facial stitches.

Ah, that was an interesting reaction. Slowly, he removed his hands, only tracing one finger down her side and then back up, barely even touching her. But she giggled once more, fidgeting beneath him and his grin spread over his face. It was too relieving, to go from the dreary, heavy emotions he'd been coping with for too long, listening in to her joy. It had been such a long time since Patchwork Labs heard such genuine laughter.

"Are you ticklish, Marie?" he asked, continuing to stroke her side as she squirmed, her laughter getting louder.

"N-no, I'm-" she broke off to squeal, since he had gently pinched her side, now fully taking advantage of how sensitive she was, and she took in fast gasps of air between her peals of laughter ."Not ticklish!" she finished, her hands coming up to his shoulders and gently pushing him.

"F-Franken!" she choked out, but the pressure against his shoulders was light. He knew if she genuinely wanted him off of her, she would have thrown him against a wall. And something about that thought, how vulnerable and open she was with him in that moment, and how strong and powerful she was in general, made his temperature rise.

He didn't know when his smirk had turned into a smile, morphing so genuinely and honestly that he was caught off guard, but he was charmed by her. He had been charmed by her for a long while, unable to admit it to himself, unable to understand it. There was so much he didn't understand, so much he thinks he was finally starting to piece together.

But, at the moment, he didn't want to dissect things and click puzzle pieces in a coherent pattern. She had kissed him back, she had laughed because of him, found joy because of him.

She had come for him, walking deserts and miles and worlds, despite not having any direction. He had heard from Death that she had quit the DWMA to find him. No one had ever cared so much for him, before. Arguably, no one did, now. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that he had her beneath him, on his bed, her yellow comforter a halo around her entire body as she sunk into the mattress, and he got to look down at her. He couldn't deny it, how he felt when he saw her so happy, a flush settling over her face. As his ministrations let up, the tickling winding down, leaving her chest heaving and her breathing heavy, he knew he wanted to see her flushed for a different reason.

He blamed the serotonin spike, the endorphins, when he bent over, kissing the corner of her mouth as he scrunched her shirt up even higher. Marie hummed happily, arching to him and throwing an arm around his neck to tug him closer to her. This time, he opened his mouth to her, letting her explore the taste of him. He regretted having a cigarette before going to see her, but his nerves were jumping as hard as his heart was, and a quick smoke would calm him, prepare him for seeing her.

The thought of her leaving had left him feeling heavy and jittery, and he had known that she would. It was why he avoided her, throwing himself into healing injuries and writing up reports. But the entire time, he was haunted by the image of her bare, golden, glowing, her hand extended. She wasn't salvation but she had looked just as inviting, had come for him when no one else would. This woman who was so small, able to crush mountains to rubble, able to soothe negativity, able to bring his heart to the point of cardiac arrhythmia. As a child, when he was around her, he had simply assumed he had a heart murmur. He had ignored the fact that it only stuttered around her.

Now, as an adult, he knew that heart rate fumbled in times of high emotional situations. Fear, fury, joy. Arousal.

He groaned against her as she brought her hand between them, and he felt the back of her hand brush over his chest as she, no doubt, unbuttoned her own blouse. His heart skipped another beat, the permission in her actions, the implications, making him feel like he was going to swallow his own tongue. He had never thought he would be in such a position, when she was smiling against him, her soul thrumming so happily, he didn't even need to have perception to feel it. Marie bathed everything in a warm, gentle glow. She made him feel relaxed, and yet, the coil in his belly as her tongue slowly slid over his was undeniable.

Stein assumed she had finished unbuttoning her shirt because she had moved on to his, her fingers hitching at the hem of his sweater. He was glad she was bold: he didn't know if he would have the nerve.

He'd never had sex, engaged in coitus, "made love" before, the phrase making him cringe. Honestly, he didn't believe that he could: make love, that was. Not that he couldn't have sex: he had the parts, knew the motions, memorized the anatomy down to a dry, simple science. But he didn't understand love, couldn't understand it, and, before, he hadn't necessarily wanted to. Sometimes, the thought of trying it, perhaps to understand what it felt like, why Spirit was so obsessed, seemingly only ever having one thing on his mind, why the entirety of the adult population seemed to enjoy it, flit through his mind. But not for the sake of simple pleasure.

He had thought it empty, frivolous.

There was nothing empty about it, now. In fact, he felt like there was too much going on. The farthest thing from empty, he felt like was going to pop.

At least there were no buttons to deal with in regards to his shirt: he didn't have to think to know how to remove it, and he, almost regretfully, pulled away from her to loop the material up his body until he could throw it to the side, exposing his scarred torso to her.

But any thoughts of himself left his head as he looked down at Marie. Her oversized sleeping shirt was open, revealing more of her golden skin, but he focused decidedly more upward, namely taking note of the fact that she wore no bra to bed.

The heat that had pooled beneath his skin seemed to intensify. Of course she didn't wear a bra to bed: why would she? She was going to sleep, and from what he had seen, the metal underwire did not a comfortable experience make, so it was rational that she would have retired to bed with nothing but a pair of plain black panties beneath her top. It seemed he was beyond rational thinking, or, at least, the calculated thinking that made his mind run a mile a minute. She just made everything in his head so quiet.

He had grown so, so sick of noise, of the static.

He swallowed hard, looking at her. The material of her shirt was still covering her breasts, hiding the majority of the flesh from his gaze. He was only privy to her cleavage, and though it was a sight he had seen before, on her, as well, it was the context that made him feel like the air was suddenly thicker. Marie looked up at him, slowly coming to one of her elbows, and the material fell away even farther.

He didn't have the time to hide how sharply he inhaled, seeing the cloth open and slide down her arms. She was so slender and the top was so oversized that it pooled down to her elbow immediately, and he saw the way the cold air made her nipples pucker.

Or, perhaps, it wasn't the cold air, at all. Slowly, as though afraid she would startle him, she reached out and he nearly jolted at the feeling of her soft fingers trailing down his inner arm until she got to his wrist. As she felt at his pulse, which had skyrocketed at the sight of her, she seemed to blush, fidgeting. He must have looked frightened, or off guard, because Marie flinched away for a moment, hunching her shoulders in. His gaze traced over the curves of her, from her navel to her two full, plush breasts, up to the creamy column of her neck and the delicate slope of her jaw. His eyes settled on her lips as they parted, and the sight of them, darkened from their kissing and slightly swollen, caused a shiver of pleasure to him through him.

"Franken?" she asked, and he could have burst at the sight of her lips shaping his name. "Do you…want to?"

He blinked a few times, his mind slowly chugging along behind him. "What?" he asked, only partially understanding the question. He was still too wrapped up in the fact that this was happening. He was too wrapped up in the fact that, even having seen corpses and cadavers and bodies aplenty, something about Marie's was making the coil in his belly tighten. All his blood was rushing south, and he felt tense, like he was wired too high. Marie bit at her lip, the lips he wanted so badly to kiss again, the lips he wanted to shape his name, and her cheeks pinked further.

"Do you want to?" she repeated, looking like she was ready to pull her shirt around her and hide.

She was so vulnerable. Not always, rarely ever, but in that moment, certainly. He blinked at her, almost incredulously. How could he not want to? How could she not see how much she was affecting him, how the sight of her skin, bared to him without hesitation, had almost instantly made him feel like a spring wound too tightly? He had never understood it, before, never thought he'd have the experience he was having, but there, with her, in the middle of the night, he had never wanted anything more.

"Marie," he murmured, and his body moved without his permission, hand coming out to cup her cheek. Her hair was messy, loops and strands of gold that flicked over her sunkissed shoulders, that got trapped between his palm and her warm, responsive skin. Marie, instead of flinching from his destructive, ruinous touch, only leaned to him. In fact, her face turned slightly as she kissed his palm, and one of her arms slipped out of her shirt so she could place her hand atop his, pressing him closer. "Oh, Marie," he said, again, feeling something inside of his chest stutter at the sight of her.

"Well?" she asked against his touch, and he felt her lips move against his skin, wanting to feel them everywhere on him. "Do you?" Just as he opened his mouth to answer, her singular eye fluttered shut, her skin warming against his hold on her. "You don't have to," she reassured him. "We can just-"

"Marie," he said, amusement coloring his voice as his other hand came to cradle her face, thumbs stroking beneath her eye and patch as he leaned over her. "Yes."

He closed the gap between them, gently cupping her jaw as he connected their mouths, and Marie made a soft, pleased noise against him as he did. The sound was intoxicating enough as it was, something he wanted to hear more of, but aided with the feeling of her as she arched to him, her bare breasts pressing to his chest, made him feel electric. The sparks in the air could have well been imagined, or they could have been the result of her tender, powerful soul coming out to twine with his, and the resonance between them hissed and flickered with how instantaneous it formed.

Stein let one hand drop from her face, instead coming to her shirt and fully tugging it off, tossing it to the side with his own as he settled more fully on his knees and eased her onto her back. Marie went without any resistance, her hands coming to his hips and pulling at his belt as he sucked on her cupid's bow.

Kissing her was incomparable to anything else. Marie's lips were responsive to his, the soft intakes of air that she stole in the swift moments they disconnected were sweet and soft. He felt the fluttering of her eyelashes tickle his cheek, the slickness of her tongue as it traced his lipline. And between those moments, those sensations, she had finally managed to undo his belt, and he continued stroking her cheekbone as though in reward. She tugged at the material of his pants, but she forgot to undo the button and pull down the zipper, so she let loose a frustrated noise when the material didn't go anywhere.

He hummed in amusement, pulling away from her and grinning, no doubt creepily, especially in the dim lighting. When Marie's gaze locked onto his, however, she didn't recoil from the horror that was his smile. Instead, she only huffed, pulling at his pants once more as though to tell him to deal with it, and he chuckled deep in his throat as he released his hold on her to undo his button, pulling down the zip and shimmying the cloth off of him. Marie blinked up at him, as though memorizing what he looked like, and the feeling of her soul changed, slightly, as she looked over his body.

He didn't stop her when her hands came to his chest, when her fingers felt over the scar tissue that made up the majority of his flesh. It was part of him, and he was proud of the wounds, the incision lines, the cuts he wouldn't let fully close. And, as gruesome as they were, Marie did not flinch. Her soul couldn't lie to him, and it never showed disgust or contempt. There was no malice. There was, however, a tenderness to her touch as she slowly, as though memorizing, traced down to his hipbones. He had never been touched like that, before: like he was something worth treasuring, something, someone, delicate and worthy of care. As Marie's hands brushed downward, her palms found the waistband of his boxers, slung low on his body from having been dragged down slightly with his pants.

This time, she didn't ask if she could take the material off. She knew she could. His soul stroked over her own, encouraging her, showing how eager he was.

Not that she needed to read his soul to know that much, he though wryly. The physical signs of his arousal were evident enough to her, and she brushed over his erection, forcing him to hiss in a breath at the sudden feeling, the sensitivity. Marie's gaze flicked up to lock on his as she slowly, almost teasingly, pushed his boxers down, being particularly careful not to catch them on anything that was particularly tender at the moment. His hips flexed at the cool air, and he closed his eyes, letting his head fall back.

Marie made a surprised noise when she saw him, and for a moment, the confusion that welled up in him was enough to make his brows furrow.

When he felt her touch, hesitant and gentle and so fucking good on him, he couldn't help but buck to her hand. Before, when he was trying on himself, it had always been so useless and impotent, but Marie's touch made him feel electric.

"You have a bolt…here?" she asked, and when he opened his eyes to look at her, she was blinking with her eye wide, her thumb coming over the head of his cock. He groaned, trying not to move his hips for more friction.

"Not a bolt," he informed, his eyes half-lidded, the desire in him swelling up until his tongue felt thick and his mind heavy. "An apadravya."

Her soul told him she wasn't freaked out. More curious and intrigued than anything else, and Marie's lips parted as she nodded, though he could see that she was more interested in touching him than in hearing technical terms. He dropped his head forward as she stroked over him, one finger tracing the sensitive vein on the underside and he choked, hips stuttering forward.

If she kept doing that, he was going to unravel, and the very thought of doing so before he'd pleased her was too embarrassing to think about. He grabbed her wrist, not tight enough to hurt her, but enough that the surprise in her soul spiked up as he shuffled over her once more, bringing her hand above her head. Carefully, he leaned over and kissed her cheek, trailing to her earlobe. As he nuzzled her, taking in the scent of her shampoo, he worried the skin of her earlobe between his teeth, listening in to her whimper.

His free hand moved down her body, skipping over her breasts entirely as he brought his touch between her thighs, and Marie cried out, the sound so close to his ear that it felt like everything was amplified, louder than it truly was. When he breached the line of her panties, her soft breaths got harder, her body arching against his even as he kept one hand captive, and, slowly, he brought his middle finger between her lips, feeling her dampness.

She was so _wet_ , and he trailed his finger down to her opening, feeling just how slick she was for him. The thought made him groan deeply, the sound no doubt felt by her, since she gasped, wriggling her hips. But he wasn't ready to slide into her, not yet. The sadistic side of him wanted to bring her to the very edge, first, and his hand pushed against the fabric of her panties as he parted her, fingers feeling for her clit. He knew he found it when he felt the smoothness, and the pleasure spiked so high in her wavelength that it thrummed into his, making his pulse jump, and she bucked against him. As he stroked over her, listening to her wail, he finally began to trail kisses down her body.

Pausing at a moment to suck on her pulse, feeling how hard her heart was beating, he only continued moving down. Over her collarbones and between her breasts. He released his hold on her wrist to, instead, cup her even as his fingers kept moving over her slickness, and Marie arched against him as he ran his thumb over her nipple. She cried out at the action, and he kneaded at her skin, glancing up to see her expression.

Her lips were parted, eye closed as she took in deep, shuddering breaths, her face flushed. He memorized the image, rubbing her slower and watching as she cried out again, her hands flailing around for a moment before one came to the headboard, grasping it hard, and the other found his hair, her fingers tangling. He kissed between her breasts once more, the rotation of his wrist starting to ache, but he didn't let up, rewarded by the twitch of Marie's thighs and her gentle calls of his name. As he licked her nipple, taking it in his mouth and sucking, he finally traced his touch between her thighs down to her opening, and he circled her a few times before, slowly, he sunk his middle finger in to the knuckle, making sure to catch the front of her walls.

Her cry was different than before, higher, and she bucked more aggressively against him as he crooked his finger, rubbing at her from the inside. She was chanting his name on a loop, her voice high and breathy, and he could feel the pleasure mounting in her wavelength as he moved from one breast to the other, cupping it before kissing the hardened peak.

When he slid a second finger into her, moving the two together, she bucked, voice high and breathy as a "Please," slipped out, tatters of his name lining her mouth, and he moved from her breasts, down to her navel, looking up at her as her head moved side to side. His wrist was killing him, the motions, done without rest, making his hand cramp, but he didn't ease up until her toes were curling and he could feel that she was right there.

As he stopped, hitching the fingers of his free hand beneath the elastic of her panties and tugging them off, sliding his previously occupied fingers out of her at the same time, she swiveling her hips. It wasn't that he was trying to deny her an orgasm, one she rightfully deserved, it was just that he wanted to be in her when she experienced it. He wanted to feel her body against his as she throbbed and tightened, clenching involuntarily as he brought her to climax, and the thought of it made his breath shallow. He kissed her belly once more before he grasped one of her legs, hitching it around him and brought himself up to her face to kiss her.

His fingers, still slick with her, ran over his cock, and he almost hissed with relief at the feeling. The slickness, the heat, the image of her writhing at what he was doing was too much. He felt like, if he didn't find his way inside of her, he would simply spiral inside of his own skin until he was lost. Likewise, however, was the thought of being in her. In Marie.

His thumb dabbed at the precum that was dripping out of him, and he would have been embarrassed at how much there was if it weren't for the fact that Marie had left a wet spot on the sheets. In fact, she had dampened his entire palm with how wet she was, and he stroked himself to distribute the slickness, aligning their hips as he delicately nipped at her lower lip. One of Marie's hands came to his cheek, cradling him even as her other wrapped around his neck, clutching his body to her. Her leg hitched higher about his waist, the other joining until the heels of her feet were pressing onto his lower back.

As he positioned himself, he finally pulled away from her mouth, looking down at her face with something indescribable swelling in his chest.

She was a sight. Her lips, now more swollen than before, were parted with her panting. Her cheeks were high in color, her amber eye almost black with how blown wide her pupil was. After a beat, his eyebrows furrowed as he took note of the fact that her eyepatch was still on, and with his free hand, he grasped the elastic, hearing her gasp.

"Stein-"

"Can I?" he asked, feeling her soul shudder nervously.

"Stein, it's…I…"

"Marie?"

"Don't…it's…it's ugly," she whispered, turning her face away, and this time, his brows furrowed for a different reason. That she thought any part of her could be unappealing made his blood heat up, but he bit his tongue, kissing the corner of her lips once more and using the hand that was at her eyepatch to direct her to face him again.

"Doubtful."

She sucked in a breath at that, her good eye inspecting his face for any trace of deceit, finding none.

"Franken…"

"You don't have to," he told her, echoing her statement from earlier, and the familiarity of it seemed to spark something in her. Though her soul was still nervous, there was something else, trust and faith and comfort, that hummed over it.

"Okay," she told him, nodding slowly, and he felt his heart stutter as he pulled the patch off, leaving her entirely bare.

When she had come for him, when all was sick with static, when the world was a haze of red and white noise, he had envisioned her like this. Not _exactly_ like this, of course, not beneath him, wet and shuddering and so ready, but bare. But, unlike in that moment, when the manifestation of her soul had come to him, extending her hand, Marie's physical form was scarred from years of hard battles. And this was no different. The scar tissue was thick over the depressed eyelid, indicating that there was nothing beneath it, and the silvery tendrils spoke of a wound long since healed.

But who was he to judge someone based on their scars? If anything, his attraction to her grew, and he despised whoever, whatever, made her believe it was ugly. He lowered his lips to her eyelid, kissing it without thinking. He found that thinking was becoming overwhelming, had been overwhelming for a while, but he seemed to have done something right, because Marie's soul swelled, and their resonance sang between them, warm and full.

Marie caressed his jaw, and he felt her smile against him as she tipped her chin up, kissing his cheek. He pulled away from her, looking back down at her face, catching the serene expression. He wonders if his own smile had gotten less sinister, if it was softened by her, softened by her wavelength, because when it spread over his face, she only grinned harder, raising up to kiss him quickly on the lips. With the eyepatch removed, his hand had settled next to her head, and she let her touch on his jaw drop so she could trace over his shoulder, down his arm, until she wormed her hand beneath his, twining their fingers.

"Are you ready?" he asked, voice dropping to a whisper, and her heels dug into his lower back, pushing him forward a few centimeters as she nodded, squeezing his hand as she pulled him down, using the arm around his neck, to connect their mouths once more.

He only waited a moment, letting it sink in, before he guided himself into her, and Marie swallowed his groan as he did so, her own moan muffled by his mouth as he slid into her for the first time, ever, joining them.

 _Fuck_ , he could have spilled himself right then. She felt so _good_.

He was unprepared, inexperienced, and he shuddered when he inched into her. She called out his name as his piercing slid in, stretching her further, and she arched in pleasure as the natural curve of him dragged the barbell over her walls. She tightened around him as a result, gasping.

"Marie-" he choked out against her lips, immediately pausing and dropping his hold on himself to fist the sheets, instead. He could almost feel that, if he were to keep moving, he'd lose it right there, and yet, even just being inside of her with no motion at all was making the heat that pooled beneath his skin feel overwhelming. Marie writhed, wanting to take more of him inside, and he cried out, clenching his eyes shut as he moved from her mouth, hiding his face against her shoulder.

"I- a minute-" he managed to stutter out, and Marie rubbed at the back of his neck, hitching her legs higher around him as he collected himself. He was barely a few inches in, but even that felt amazing, and she moaned as he stretched her, telling him how good he felt. She was ready for him, he could tell by her slick heat, how he could feel her pulse around him, and he didn't want to leave her unfulfilled. He just needed a moment to collect himself. He remembered overhearing talk of disappointing flings, faked intimacy.

But it didn't feel fake. It feel overwhelmingly real; not just the physical aspect of it, but the rest, what he was grasping at with stumbling fingers, that rounded out what being intimate meant.

 _He didn't know how to do this._ He felt clumsy, his lack of experience was no doubt showing, and it was only with so many years of reigning in his control that he didn't immediately spill himself inside of her, bucked and moved and found his own pleasure inside of her as she was left to hold him. No, he didn't want that. He wanted to feel her twitch and shudder against him, to feel her bite his shoulder to try to hold down her cries, to feel the warmth that was her. He sucked in a harsh breath against her skin, closing his eyes as he sucked at her pulse, listening to her whimper as he inched deeper inside of her.

The room was hot. _She_ was hot, impossibly slick, impossibly perfect around him. Her soul pushed against his, urging him on as she adjusted herself beneath him, moving her hips around to accept him in her.

And, slowly, he found his rhythm, making certain that he aimed upward, that the ball-end of his piercing was rubbing over her front walls, stimulating her further. Her cries were soft and genuine; Marie was a lousy actress. She couldn't lie, and especially not when he had such a direct link to her soul. It told him everything, what was working and what wasn't, and when the hand that wasn't holding her own came back between her thighs, rubbing once more, the immediate pleasure that yawned in her shuddered through the both of them.

And with it, Marie opened her mouth, her voice high and almost breathless when she let "I love you," slip out.

He stopped completely, his eyes widening as he shook, and Marie's own eye went wide as he did so. When she opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, he only kissed her, fiercely, hard, his rhythm in her faltering as he started up again, hearing her whimper as he did so. As he pulled away, she kept her mouth open, shreds of his name passing by her lips, but he was losing himself in her and he knew it, finding his completion as he desperately rubbed her.

"F-Fr-Franken-"

"Say-say it-it again," he demanded, kissing over her jaw, sucking hard at the underside, listening to her yelp.

"Fr-Franken! Oh, g-god, Franken! I love you!"

The immediate spike of pleasure ran through him like an electric current and he said "Again," once more, unable to control his breathing as it broke up the words, but Marie said it again, calling it out into the night air, into the heat of their room, and found that he had lost all sense of control, his head spinning as she chanted, and he called her name on a loop, repeating it mindlessly as he drove himself into her, his frantic rubbing making her thighs twitch.

He was so close. He wanted to sob against her skin as she pulsed and tightened around him, and his hold on her hand had gone almost bone-white. Marie's own grasp only got more firm as she came to the precipice, too, where he was waiting for her to fall so he could catch her.

As he reared up, kissing her and unable to hold back anymore, her legs tightened around him, her back arching high against him as she shuddered and trembled, her orgasm shuddering through her and through him, through the link of their resonance as he spilled himself, everything intense and too bright and too sensitive.

The world could have fallen around his ears; his head was spinning, his body twitching and spent, even muscle in him relaxing immediately. He didn't have the good sense to roll, taking Marie with him, and, instead, she yelped softly when he landed on her, his knees weak. He felt dazed, like he was falling to madness yet not, like his head wasn't screwed on the right way.

Marie's golden wavelength made her glow brighter than before, brighter than he had ever seen her, and she was whimpering when he finally caught enough sense of himself to realize he was likely crushing her far smaller form. Mustering all the energy he had, he rolled to his back, and the action pulled him out of her. Marie was shuddering in his hold, and he wrapped an arm around her, breathing hard, their hands still twined together. She was pressing her cheek to his, and when his mind caught up to him, he realized that she was still saying his name.

As the heat died down, ebbing away and being replaced by the slight chill that was always characteristic of Patchwork Labs, he released his hold on her long enough to grasp a blanket, throwing it on top of them and replacing his arm around her, holding her close.

"Franken…" she said, and though her voice was tired, he could make out the contentment. It inspired him to tangle their legs together, his soul coming over her own as though to encompass her.

"Yes?" he asked, stroking over her hair.

"I think…I'm going to miss my flight."

The words jolted through him. For a heart stopping moment, the cruel thought that she would still leave dragged through him, as jagged and painful as a bolt of lightning, but her soul was too happy, too attached. He could practically feel their resonance rate increasing, and he rubbed a circle between her shoulder blades.

"On accident?" he asked, half for clarification and half to simply listen to her voice, finally regaining his breath as he settled, pliant and relaxed against the mattress, and Marie settled against him in the same way. Slowly, she turned her head, kissing him on the cheek and adjusting herself so she was resting her head on his shoulder.

"On purpose," she answered, and he wondered just when she'd gotten under his skin, worked her way beneath his sternum. His hold on her tightened, fingers playing at the still flushed flesh of her hip, her body glowing in undeniable proof of her climax, her wavelength playing over him in soothing, healing waves.

And he didn't want to let go of her.

* * *

 **I remember seeing this prompt, 'First Time', and thinking I was going to write maybe 500 words, a short drabble, for it. 10K later, here is this behemoth. I'm not sorry.**


	4. Redamancy

When he woke up, shivering, his arms stretched out to the opposite side of the bed, as though he were instinctively reaching for something. For someone. But he was alone and the bed was empty, save for himself, and that in of itself didn't surprise him or shock him for a few moments. In fact, there would be no reason for him to expect otherwise, considering how sleepy he still was. He'd awakened alone for years.

And then he remembered and it hit him, hard.

Marie.

Marie.

He couldn't help the small jolt that indicated mild panic. More often than not, Marie loved to sleep in, loved to savor the moments in the morning while he held her, her back warm against his chest, his arms around her, and to have her missing was odd.

It took too much time for him to gain enough clarity to focus on his soul perception, and when he felt her soul, still in the house, in the bathroom, he flopped back down onto the bed, not even having realized that he had sat up.

He felt stupid for having been so concerned, though he knew she'd appreciate it. She always appreciated things like that, though he didn't much know why. Often, Stein simply chose not to dwell on such things: if Marie was happy, then he was happy. Life was simple in that way.

His eyes fluttered shut as he settled in the bed, still able to smell her fruity shampoo and vanilla bodywash and the slightest hint of rain that Marie always carried about her. The blanket was on the floor, exposing his bare body to the cold, which was why he woke up in the first place, so he rolled over and brought his face to the pillows so he could inhale the scent, and he almost missed the motion of her soul until the door clicked open, alerting him. Lazily, he opened his eyes to take her in, sitting up in the bed once again, his eyebrows raising when he looked at her. Marie stood in the doorway, wearing nothing more than a pair of clean, lace panties and his labcoat.

Fuck, was she trying to kill him? His brain wasn't ready for that kind of stimulation right when he woke up.

"Oh," she said, blinking at him, her eyepatch still settled on their bedside table. "You're up early."

"Am I?" he asked, not even having bothered to look at the clock, too busy looking her up and down. He knew she knew those were his favorite pair, the ones she always wore when they had a date night. And the memories of seeing her in the panties in other situations was starting to make him heat up.

"Well, a part of you is," she replied, smirking as her eyeline settled considerably more south than his face.

"You're doing this on purpose," he accused when he saw how smug she was, and she feigned innocence immediately, grinning as she walked forward.

"Doing what?" she asked, blinking up at him.

"Driving me even further to the edge of insanity," he remarked, dryly, scooting closer to her and reaching out to grasp her around the waist, pulling her to him as she giggled.

"Who knew a pair of panties could do all that?" she asked teasingly, letting him bring her onto his lap as he kissed her temple, breathing in the scent of her hair. Oh, she definitely knew what she was doing to him.

"You did," he muttered, adjusting her slightly so she was more comfortable, and Marie smiled once more, allowing him to jostle her before she pulled away slightly and kissed his forehead.

"Mmmm, but it makes such a great good morning, doesn't it?" she asked as she peppered his face with kisses while her hands dipped down to his hips, and she brushed her lips over his. The tentative motion was matched easily, and he leaned into her, explicit permission for her to kiss him more deeply. The low groan he made in the back of his throat got louder when Marie rubbed his thighs, nipping at his upper lip and taking it into her mouth. Carefully, he pushed his labcoat off of her shoulders, bringing one hand to her messy mane of hair and the other between her shoulder blades, pressing her toward him.

Stein felt Marie smile against his mouth just before she pulled away from him, kissing over his cheek and across his jaw, leaving a tingling feeling everywhere she set her lips. As she reached his throat, he tipped his head back, and she left an open mouth kiss over his Adam's apple, feeling him swallow as one of his hands trailed downward, cupping her ass as he ground against her, letting her feel his arousal.

Slowly, Marie's lips made their way to his ear, licking at the shell before she nuzzled him, swiveling her hips so she was rubbing against his erection, making him gasp quietly. Her fingers crept up his side, tracing the scars on his torso before she curved her palm over his shoulder and to the back of his neck, grasping his hair. Gently, she kissed his ear, grinding down against him once more as she whispered, "You're already so hard, Franken," pulling on his gray locks just barely as though to punctuate the point.

He sucked in another harsh breath, opening his eyes to look at her as she pulled away and she smiled at him, the hand on his hip rubbing soothing circles into his flesh. Her lips stretched farther as her smile deepened, and she leaned forward to kiss his nose, making his own mouth twitch upward.

"It's a natural biological response to stimulation," he told her, and she lifted a brow as she played with his hair, seated in his lap and feeling the hard line of his length against her thigh.

"Oh? Are you going to give me an anatomy lesson, then? Hm, Professor?" she asked, the playful grin on her face getting even more mischievous. His nose wrinkled slightly and Marie giggled. "What? Not up for teaching?"

"I'd rather leave my job at the DWMA, thanks," he replied, cupping the back of her neck and kissing beneath her jaw. Marie hummed playfully, letting her head fall back.

"I assume 'professor''s a no-go, then?"

"Mmmm," he replied, finding her pulse point and tenderly kissing it. "You can call me whatever you'd like, Marie."

"Even Franky?" she asked, the teasing tone evident, and Stein only sucked at her neck, sure to produce a darkened mark, leaving Marie to let loose a small, breathy "Ah," as he smirked. He only pulled away when she had started grinding down on his lap, and he nipped at her playfully.

"Not much matter. You won't be able to say much when I'm done with you," he informed her, almost casually, though he could practically feel the shiver of pleasure that hummed through her.

Marie bit her lip as Stein pressed burning, open mouthed kisses down to her collar bones, kissing across them and nipping delicately.

"Is that- mmm- is that a threat?"

Stein's lips had finally trailed to her sternum, right atop her heart, and he gently pressed his lips to the spot, the overwhelming tenderness with how he was touching her making her soul swell. Stein's eyelashes tickled over her skin as he pressed his cheek atop her left breast, his touch practically worshipping as his hands trailed over her back, stroking her spine and massaging her skin.

She could practically feel his smile against her flesh. "It's an inevitability, Marie."

He couldn't see her grin, but he could feel it, the way her soul warmed, nuzzling over his own. The woman was sentimental, that was for certain. Though, he wouldn't consider himself the same, even as his own soul repeated her actions.

"Someone's cocky," Marie said, squirming atop him, bringing herself backwards slightly, letting his hardness press to her belly. When she looked down, taking in his erection, her grin deepened. "Literally."

Stein snorted, splaying his palm between her shoulder blades and pushing her forward once more so he could kiss over the other side of her neck, leaving her to tangle her fingers in his hair as he left a wicked burning sensation everywhere his lips touched her skin.

"You're terrible," he muttered, biting her earlobe and worrying the flesh between his teeth. Marie giggled, though it was broken up by her wanting, breathy noises.

"I get it from you," she told him, relaxing backward in his hold and bringing her legs around him, running her hands through his hair and circling where his bolt met his skull as he located every spot on her neck and shoulders that made her shiver and shake.

Marie swallowed hard when he brought his hands to her hips, grinding against her and connecting their mouths, his tongue sliding over the cushion of her lower lip. Marie parted her lips for him, tilting her head and deepening the kiss, even as he wrapped an arm around her, settling his massive palm over her ribcage, his other hand massaging her hip, gently running over her ass. She felt too warm, gasping when he pressed his fingers over a spot that had her jolting, jumping in his lap and rubbing over his erection.

The groan he gave off was intoxicating, and she could feel his precum slicking her skin, making the rub she gave him with her belly all the more sensual. His tongue came to twine with her own, his hands exploring her body in even more depth than the night before, and she gently pursed her lips and sucked, one of her hands coming between them, intent on touching him, making him feel as good as he was making her feel.

But he pulled away as her well manicured fingers gently brushed over his flexing stomach, the hand that had been roving over her side grasping her wrist, instead, and she caught his strained, particularly dark smirk before he maneuvered them, laying her flat on her back with no warning at all. Marie gasped, her free arm flying around his neck as the world went dizzy for a moment. On her back, her head hung off the mattress, exposing her neck even more, and, this time, Stein settled one knee between her legs, grinding against her slightly, inspiring a warm moan as he licked her throat.

"None of that, Marie," he said, and the way he uttered her name made her feel electric, his teeth coming to scrape over her sensitive skin even as he palmed at her breasts, cupping them, letting the weight settle in his large, capable hands. Marie arched up to his touch as he kissed behind her ear, a whimper coming from deep in her throat. "This is about you."

As he tenderly caressed her, he brought the fingers of one hand down her flexing stomach, his index finger extended as he barely touched her, drawing a line down her torso. Marie breathed in harshly, swallowing hard as his left hand continued lightly stroking her breast, cataloguing her breath.

Slowly, teasing her entirely, he moved his knee away so he could press two fingers between her thighs, smirking when he took note of how wet she was. She strained, flexing her hips to try to get more friction as he traced the underside of her breast, feeling her quiver beneath him. His soul flared up, stroking over her own at all sides as he moved away from her neck, taking notice of how many love bites he'd left her. The marks were stark against her creamy skin, and he took a long moment to glance over her. Her head was tipped back, her face flushed, partially from the position, but mostly from his ministrations, her lips swollen and shining and well-bitten. As she fluttered her eye open, he could see that the gold was barely a sliver, she was so aroused, and her other eye, the one that wasn't an eye at all, was all beautiful scarwork, as gorgeous as lace and intricate as embroidery, a sign of her hard battles.

The sight of it made him all the more aware of the position they were in. This perfect, war scarred woman, so tender and pliant to his touch, shivering and sopping beneath him, grinding against his fingers. She was a sight. Her shoulders shook, her collarbones covered in red marks from his mouth, and her ample breasts were heaving, his fingers coming out to play with the dusky pink, hardened nipple, making her whimper once more. His gaze continued trailing down, taking in her flexing stomach, the flush over her thick thighs.

He wanted to kiss them.

"You're so pretty like this, Marie," he informed her, feeling her soak his fingers even through the fabric of her underwear, but she only fluttered her eye shut, breathing hard as she tried to rut against his hand. He leaned over her once more, biting down on her earlobe and extending his soul toward her. As she desperately latched onto it, aching for resonance, aching for him, he altered his wavelength, misaligning them just barely.

He heard her gasp, her hips wildly flying off the bed as she shuddered, thrown entirely off kilter just as he moved his head down, kissing her nipple in a hot mist of his breath. She shook as he looked up at her, displeased that she still had her eye shut.

"Marie," he called, as he took his hand from between her thighs away, and she whined, connecting their gazes.

"C'mon, I want you so bad. Please doon't tease me," she demanded, a hand coming to his jaw and caressing, feeling his stubble.

And his grin was wicked as he leaned into her touch, all the while bringing his fingers to his mouth. In the bare light of morning, she could see how they were glistening, even though he only pressed them to her through her underwear, and she swallowed hard when he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them and tasting her.

Her fingertips dug into his cheek, slightly, as he licked his fingers, his tongue slicking them even more. As his grin widened, Marie arch up, yearning for his touch, pushing her breast further into his hand so he could massage her skin, feeling her writhing body, her hips twisting and her chest heaving. Her breasts had swelled with the intense touching, her nipples hard and flushed, and Marie moaned softly as he bowed his head and blew on her skin, catching the wet spots he'd previously left and making her shiver. The different sensations were making her wavelength fluctuate.

Marie's fingers tangled in his hair as she gently whispered his name, and he smiled as she did, nuzzling her neck and biting down softly. Marie's hold on his gray locks tightened, and he molding his hard body over her, pushing their hips together so he could hold her down more easily. Slowly, as he sucked on her neck, he trailed his touch on her breasts inward, spiraling toward her sensitive nipple.

He felt her arch toward him, her entire body shaking as he tapped on it, feeling her jolt, her chant of his name faltering, and he continued suckling at the bite he'd left on her neck, rocking his hips against hers.

"Franken! A-ah!"

He grinned, biting down on her skin once more and shifting his wavelength, running his soul against her own and knowing she was trying to resonate with him, the connection not yet so unbalanced that it registered as pain, but rather, the opposite: pleasure. And he stroked over her soul, feeling her both press against and push away from his, equally as desperate to connect and to disconnect, as though overwhelmed by him.

He supposed she was, because her speech had dissolved, her body speaking for her, instead. Lightly, he traced her areola, allowing his fingernail to barely brush over her flesh, and she strained against him harder as a result, panting, her eye closed tightly as her breathing got harder, deeper, carrying scraps of his name. He continued tracing around her nipple, the motions maddeningly slow, and Marie ground her hips against him, aligning herself against his erection and trying to stimulate herself through her panties.

Immediately, he arched away, moving his hands off of her, but she let loose a high whine, boxing his head in with her arms and holding him close to her, whimpering.

"Marie-"

"Don't stop," she begged, her voice harsh and pleading, high and breathy. "You're making me feel so good. Please don't stop."

And he nuzzled against her jaw, complying with her demands. He felt the spike of pleasure in her wavelength, and he was certain that her panties had been completely soaked through.

"Keep-mmm-keep going-" she cut herself off with another hum, arching almost painfully off the bed, her legs spread wide, her fingers looping his hair and tugging him toward her.

"Tell me how it feels, Marie," he whispered, kissing her jaw before he maneuvered atop her, relinquishing one hand to hold her head up, looking into her eye as he cupped her other breast. She fluttered it open, her entire face warm and pink, bringing her lip between her teeth.

"Franken…"

"Tell me," he commanded once more, gently kissing over her cheeks, missing her lips on purpose and sucking at her jaw.

"So good," she panted out, maintaining eye contact with him as his fingers kneaded at her flesh. "It feels s-so good. Warm. My- my whole body is tingling."

He kissed her as a reward, swallowing her soft moan as he thumbed her nipple, and Marie bucked harshly, unable to help it. The pleasure yawned in her, her body electric and her thighs trembling.

Stein's hands were strong as he shifted his hold so he could roll her nipple between his fingers, pinching and twisting almost immediately. She broke away from his mouth with another soft, pleased sound, throwing her head back as he latched onto her pulse, licking and sucking at the skin of her neck, adding one more mark to the many she already had courtesy of him.

She arched up higher, her legs splayed wide open, and he gently trailed his lips downward, listening to her panting, feeling her shiver. Slowly, ever so slowly, he released his hold on the back of her head, letting it fall back once more, and Marie moaned as he breathed hot air between her breasts, over her ribcage, her belly, and to her thighs. She spread her legs even wider for him, so wanting for his touch, and he smiled. She was so good, his Marie. She was so ready. Carefully, he stripped her of her panties, the fabric clinging slightly to her skin due to her wetness, but soon being tossed to the side, off to a corner of their room.

Seeing her sent a spark of arousal through him, hard and swift, yawning inside of him as it always did, and he kissed over her inner thighs, drinking in the sight. With one hand still caressing her breast and the other resting atop her hip, he finally gave into the temptation of feeling her slickness. His long, large fingers crept over her hipbone before he extended a finger and brought it between her lips, watching her buck.

"You're practically dripping, Marie," he breathed out, and she whimpered.

"Want you. So bad. So bad."

"Do you?" he asked, knowing full well she did, looking up at her and playfully running his soul over her own. He had every access to just how wanting and ready she was, her soul and body eager for him, asking for his touch, but he wanted to hear her say it.

"Y-yes!"

"Do you want me to fuck you, Marie?"

Her breath hitched at the question, a soft groan accompanying the nod she gave that he could barely see. "Yes," she said, her voice tipping higher." Yes, please?"

He hummed as though still unsure. "How bad do you want me to?"

She practically sobbed, his finger stroking her maddeningly slow. Truthfully, he never thought she'd be one for begging, or teasing, but he could feel how the actions brought her such immense pleasure, as they always did. And, really, who was he to deny her when he loved teasing her and hearing her beg just as much as she loved it?

"I w-want you so bad. Please? Oh, Franken, please?"

"How bad, Marie? Tell me exactly how bad you want it." He couldn't stop grinning, the action twisting the stitches on his face. Marie so rarely unfurled, never on the battlefield, or in class. Never when she had a job to do. She was sturdy and powerful and reliable. But here. Oh, here, with him, with his finger caressing her clit with the ghost of a touch, with his hand on her breasts, she could unwind so completely, tell him exactly how desperate she was to shatter.

He was always so amazed at how much just talking to him, hearing him command her, made her slicken. The glide between her lips was effortless, and, if anything, she gushed as he looked up at her, sucking on her inner thigh, leaving hickies everywhere his lips touched her. She had brought herself up on her elbows, her torso trembling, so she could look at him.

"Mmm- I'm gonna die if you don't."

"That bad, hm?" he asked, the question entirely rhetorical, but she answered him, anyway, surrendering to his control.

"Ye-yeah. Yeah, so bad."

"Well," he continued, the hypnotic motion of his stroking getting slightly faster, much to her delight. "If that's the case." The ache he had ignited between her legs must have been unbearable for her, just as it was for him. He couldn't ignore how her submission made his whole body tremble, so absolutely, maddeningly aroused, but he said it was about her, and he intended to keep it that way. Slowly, all too slowly, the finger that was between her lips, the one he'd slicked up so thoroughly with her dampness, came to her entrance, and he listened to her gasp out "Yes!", falling back against the mattress, before he slid it into her.

He grinned at her affirmation, moving in and out of her with ease, pressing over the front of her walls. Her panting was harsh and loud and so beautiful. She was so beautiful, especially like this, when she was so wanting, so wet.

"Is this what you want, Marie?" he asked her, biting down gently on her hipbones and the skin of her belly, not allowing himself the pleasure of tasting her.

"Y-yes. Yes, yes, yes," she chanted, her hands fisting the sheets, her body meeting every motion. He smiled, loving that he was making her feel so good.

"Do you want more?"

The moan that tumbled out of her was jagged, her belly flexing. "Oh, g-god yes. Yes. Please?"

And, because he was never one to deny her, for too long, anyway, he slicked up a second finger before he moved that one into her, as well, watching as she hitched her legs up higher, crossing them up in air at the ankle, allowing him to kiss the undersides of her thighs instead of just the inside, and he peppered her skin, so warm and responsive, with more kisses, even as she trembled.

It was when he breathed warm air between her thighs that she finally dropped her legs to his shoulders, giving them a rest, shivering in anticipation, and he watched his fingers slide in and out of her, how she accepted them inside of her effortlessly, her entrance swollen and wanting and flushed.

Truthfully, this was his favorite part, watching her, making her feel so good. The involuntary actions as she so greedily took him in, accepted everything he would give, asking for him to bring her to climax. Her folds were glistening pink, just begging for his mouth, but he wanted to watch her take him for just a moment longer. He curled his fingers, pressing over her front walls, catching the rough spot and listening to her gasp. She was squirming unrelentingly as he watched her, as he looked at how she gushed small spurts of liquid whenever he pressed just so against what had to be her g-spot.

Marie was a shaking, shuddering mess. She was doing little more than babbling, now, begging him to eat her out, his name nothing but fragments breaking against her teeth as he coaxed her, bringing her to bliss. Her muscles tensed, and he felt her clench over his fingers, pulsing hard.

She was gorgeous like this, and he spared an instant to look up at her, watching her rear up, slightly, her hips wiggling hard as she panted. The smooth, curved line of her body went rigid, and he unrelentingly stimulated her, listening to her practically weep.

He rested his head against her thigh, watching as she squirted, hearing her whimper and moan, and he bit his lip. It was so erotic, one of the more surprising actions he'd found she could do. Surprising for her, too. It had baffled scientists for years, but he didn't much care who thought it a myth, or no, considering he was witnessing it happening. Here, in front of him, Marie had been rendered utterly speechless, left to do little more than shudder in his grasp.

He loved bringing her to that point, where she could say barely anything, just shuddering, cut off noises of absolute ecstasy, and when his fingers didn't let up, thrusting swiftly into her and curling in the perfect way, he could have cum just from the sound she made alone.

Ah, but he wanted to taste her, looking up at her, watching her unfurl. And when he let himself, the anticipation having built and built in him, he moaned at the feeling, drowned out by her keen. He pressed his lips against her folds, giving long, slow, deliberate licks over her dripping entrance, taking his fingers out for short, swift moments as his tongue laved over the opening, before he would thrust them back in, leaving her sobbing.

His nose nuzzled her, his lips caressing her clit, sucking softly, and consistently, interspersed with circling his tongue around her. He could feel her pulse from there, her very core on his mouth, and Marie's hands found his hair as she twitched, her body jerking from the overstimulation.

Her high moans had gotten shorter, broken up by her heavy breathing, fast, staccato "Ah!"s of pleasure, and he thought it was almost a shame that she was approaching her second orgasm so soon. He could spend days between her legs, tasting her, licking her clean as she gushed and dripped, as he brought her to bliss over and over again.

He doubts she'd mind, but she was so sensitive already, her heart pounding hard, the pleasure engulfing her as he felt her tighten around the base of his fingers, both of them brought in to the knuckle before she completely shattered around him, sobbing his name and "You're so good" and "I love you" as he gently sucked on her lips, kissing her hips and coaxing her through her second orgasm.

Marie was whimpering by the time he had slowly kissed back up her cheek, and the hand that had been caressing her breast came around her, worming beneath her back and the mattress, adjusting her so that her head wasn't tipped over the edge of the bed, anymore.

She threw her arms around him, though she felt mostly boneless, nothing but nerve endings and pleasure, shuddering in his grasp as he held her. Only when her hard pulsing had eased to gentle flutters did he take his fingers out of her, kissing over her nose and cheeks and brushing over her mouth as she breathed tatters of "I love you so much".

She caught her breath with a deeply satisfied sigh, her smile content and lazy, basking in his affections. Marie bumped their noses together, kissing his cupid's bow as he grinned at her, holding her as she relaxed.

"Is it still being cocky if I was correct, Marie?" he asked her, all too aware of how she had come to the point of being able to say nothing, and she only hummed, still smiling, curling in close to him.

However, when she felt the hard line of him against her belly once more, her brows furrowed and she looked down, taking in how flushed he was, how he was dripping precum. She looked back at his face.

"Nope, definitely still cocky. Franken, this is hardly fair," she said, pouting slightly, running her fingers through his hair.

"Mmmm," he replied, leaning into her touch like a cat, seemingly content just to be in her embrace, their souls warm and thrumming against one another.

Her pout deepened. "Franken. You didn't get anything."

He kissed beneath her ear, softly stroking her side, their legs tangled together. "I got plenty," he remarked, recalling the sight of watching her cum.

"But I want to make you feel good," she said, cupping the back of his neck, her thumb coming to stroke over his jaw. "I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel."

"You do," he assured, curling up to her, but Marie rolled her eye.

"Do, as in general. Not did, as in just now."

Stein nuzzled at her, the aftercare he bestowed upon her often the most lavishing part of their relationship. "You don't have to, Marie."

"But I want to," she replied, curling her fingers over his shoulders and pushing him back slightly. She bat her eyelashes at him, kissing his nose, so affectionate. "Can I?"

The smirk that curled over his face was lazy and endearing. "You can do whatever you'd like with me, Marie."

"Mmmm, you might regret that," she joked. "I could tease you like you tease me. Not so fun when you're the one being edged, hm?"

He laughed, looping one of her soft, blond curls around his finger. "I'd have rubbed off on you, then."

"In more ways than one."

"Ha."

But Marie took no notice of his sarcasm, besides, she knew that he preferred her sense of humor. It was all too like his own. Instead, she only smiled, kissing his jaw and wrapping a leg around him before he felt the world spin and she brought him to his back. His eyebrows went up, her grin becoming just the slightest hint more mischievous.

"Let me doing something for you," she said, her eyelid drooping slightly as she bit at her lip, watching him swallow.

"Be- uh, be my guest."

She gave him one more soft, gentle smile before she kissed his throat, intent on leaving him in as many marks as he'd left her. Stein didn't react to stimulation like she did, however. He wasn't a very vocal man. She judged his reactions based on how his hips flexed, how he swallowed, hard, how he brought his hand to the top of her head to encourage her. And it was whenever she found the spots, as she always did, that had him groaning, quiet and low, rumbling his chest, that she was sure she was doing something right.

Marie's hands had started glowing gold as she brought them to his hips, her wavelength dialed up, warm and inviting, and he arched from the mattress as she kissed her way down his chest, focusing on the diagonal scar. Usually, she'd dwell more on it, give in to the slivers of sadness she felt when it hit her that he had cut himself open, but she was too focused on how his soul was already swelling, thrumming and happy and alive and so turned on, that she was mostly focused on making her way to where he most wanted her.

Truthfully, she didn't like to tease him. She wanted to give him what he wanted. She wanted to see him break open, gasping her name. So when she got to his hips, the V cut in so perfectly, she only drummed her fingers over his side before she glanced up at him, smiling, kissing his belly, watching the way his eyes fogged.

"Doing okay there, Stein?"

He only hummed, deeply, bringing a clumsy hand to the top of her head, moving her hair out of her face. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as he looked at her, tenderly looping the strands behind her ears, bringing her hair to one shoulder so it wasn't in her way.

Stein showed affection in small ways, in careful, swift caresses, in absentminded comforts, and this was no different. Marie smiled warmly, the affection she felt toward him almost overwhelming as she glowed.

"I love you," she told him, resting her cheek against his hipbone for a moment, nuzzling.

"Marie…" he said, and in it, she could feel, hear, everything he didn't say. "You're wonderful," and "Darling," and "Thank you," and "I love you, too," as he cupped her cheek. She brought one of her hands off of his hips, placing her hand atop his and turning her head slightly to kiss his palm, her fingers settling into the spaces his fingers left.

She gave one more kiss to his palm before she moved back, just enough to lower herself down so she was facing his hardness, and she let go of her hold on his hand so she could grasp him. Marie heard him groan, his hand falling from her cheek and down to her shoulder, stroking over her in encouragement.

She was never so aware of his size until she got to eye level with him. It was often hard to believe. She remembered back to the first time they had sex, when he'd been so afraid of hurting her, taking his time to prepare her for how large he was. They'd spent hours kissing, hours with her bucking into his hand, into the buzz of the vibrator until she was pleading for him to be inside of her. She breathed in hard through her nose, rubbing her thighs together at the thought, unable to deny that she wanted him in her, then, too.

Slowly, she kissed the underside of his cock, holding him at the base as she maintained eye contact with him, and he groaned breathily while she breathed hot air on his sensitive skin. It was hard not to notice the affect her own body had to the actions, as well, since she was certain she was flushed from throat to knees, rosy and turned on.

As she opened her mouth into a little o, and then a rather big o, she curled her lips over her teeth, ever aware of the fact that she had to stretch her mouth wide just to fit him inside. His fingers carded through her hair and she relaxed slightly, fluttering her eye closed and slowly taking him in, inch by inch.

She didn't rush. The last thing she wanted to do was gag, and she could feel how he had tensed up, likely desperate not to thrust down her throat and end the experience on a less than savory note. Marie slowly stroked his thigh with one hand, the other squeezing him gently at the base. Stein's choked cry when she sucked on the head was intoxicating, and she could almost feel herself gush.

It was only when she focused and noticed that she'd barely taken a few inches of him inside of her mouth that she realized that she would have to think of something else. Stein was perfectly fine with what she was doing right that moment, if his groans and tender caresses were anything to go by, but she wanted to give him more. It was just that the natural curve of him was too strong. It was more than appreciated when he was in her in a different way, when she was slick between the thighs and he was deep in her, finding the spot inside of her that she once thought was just a myth. Now, it was only inconvenient.

Or, it was inconvenient from the position she was in.

Marie moved him out of her, sucking at the head for only a moment and hearing him choke off a whine. She kissed at the base of him, her nose gently bumping at his skin, before she kissed back to the scar he had over his stomach, her gaze on him holding him captivated.

"Franken?" she started, tracing her nail down his side. "Do you want some…visual stimulation?" she asked, and he only swallowed, hard, once more.

"Mhm," was all he answered her with, his expression dazed, and she grinned, crawling over him, placing both hands onto his chest and pressing him into the mattress. She felt his hand rove down from her shoulder, curling over her spine until he cupped her ass, grinding against her, still so wanting for stimulation.

Marie smiled at him, setting a kiss atop where his heart was beneath his sternum, feeling his thumbs rub soothing circles against her skin, leaving her humming and arching.

"I'm gonna turn around," she told him, and she looked into his eyes, practically black from how dilated his pupils were. "Is that okay?"

"Mmmmmmhm," he answered, as she nuzzled beneath his jaw, tenderly kissing his pulse-point before she pulled away.

It didn't take much maneuvering at all, really. Within no time, she had her legs on either side of him, but her back was to his face, this time. She arched, throwing her hair back over her shoulder as she bent over him, scooting backward and waving her ass in the air, right in front of his face. His groan was louder this time, the moan humming out of him and rumbling his chest slightly, making her giggle. She gently tapped the inside of his thigh so he wouldn't jolt when she brought her lips to his hips, kissing and sucking at his skin, working him up.

Looking at him, again, she had to bite her lip at how hard and flushed he was. His cock bobbed in front of her, wet with precum that dripped out of him and beaded down the underside where she could see his vein throbbing.

She grasped him once more, her small hand looking particularly miniscule in comparison before she bowed her head and shimmied backward to get more comfortable, her tongue coming out to lick at the ridge. She heard him gasp and she kissed his tip, leaving a line of kisses over his entire shaft before she opened her mouth and circled the head with her tongue.

She knew she was doing a good job when she felt him shift beneath her, and she finally engulfed the head of his cock, sinking him into her mouth with considerably more ease than the last position. From this one, he was curved in the same way her throat was, and she tried to relax her jaw further, careful about hurting him.

Marie almost jumped when she felt his hands on her back, massaging her skin, and she moaned lowly at how the pads of his fingers dug in just slightly. Stein had calloused, well used hands, and he knew just where to touch her to make her turn to mush. She immediately felt her body sink down, her soul relaxing as well when he finally completed their link and let them resonate, his soul curled over hers, stroking from all sides. The quick, shallow intakes of air through her nose morphed into slow, deep breathing, instead, and she found that she had far less trouble taking more of him into her. She bobbed her head back and forth, taking more of him in every time, her eyes clouding at the fact that she was swallowing him down so far.

But it was when she heard him shift into his muttered German, filthy without doubt, that she felt herself really heat up again. Death, he knew what that did to her, what it reminded her of. Every time he shifted into his native tongue, she couldn't help but remember every time he was thrusting into her, so close to release. She barely ever understood what he was telling her, though from the sparse translations she'd managed to pick up, she knew it was far dirtier than she ever believed he was capable of.

And she shouldn't have been so affected by it, but she curled her spine, raising her ass into the air even more, embarrassingly wet and flushed. Death, who gets so turned on just giving a blowjob? But she couldn't help it. He so rarely wanted one, so rarely did she give one since he was so damn selfless, that being in the position was driving her wild. She cupped his balls with the gentlest touch, feeling herself warm even further when she dialed her wavelength higher, and Stein must not have expected it because his hips flew up wildly, eyes likely widened and mouth popped into an o of surprise.

Marie tried to pull away, instinctively, but his hands were still on her back, partially holding her down, and she could only let loose a choked sound. Yet, there was something about the restrain, about being unable to pull away, that made the ache between her legs intensify, though she tensed slightly at the motion. She moaned, the noise choked off because of how far down her throat he was, certain that Stein had an explicit view of just how much doing this for him had turned her on, and she felt his fingers soothe down her spine, managing to force out a strangled "Sorry," as he trailed his hands down to the plush of her ass once more, cupping both cheeks.

She didn't mean to squirm, spreading her legs farther as she slowly popped him out of her mouth, looking down at how wet she'd gotten his cock, and Marie bit her lips at the sight before she licked down his shaft, wanting to incorporate her hand, making sure to slick him from base to tip. Stein arched off the bed, squeezing her backside and kneading the flesh, his voice getting deeper as she began to pump him before she licked back up to the tip and sucked it into her mouth once more.

Stein's voice when he spoke German was always different, harsher, certainly rougher. It was when he spoke in his native tongue that she could hear the affect the cigarettes had on him, and when he moaned out his favorite nickname for her, calling her "Betthäschen" in that gritty tone, she swiveled her hips around, absolutely aching.

With one hands pumping him, twisting around gently to stimulate what of him she couldn't take in her mouth and the other hand cupping his balls, making sure to be gentle, she couldn't even reach down between her legs and relieve the near painful arousal she had been brought to. Stein hummed deep in his throat, still kneading her ass, and she wished, for a moment, that she wasn't so short. For most couples, this would be the prime time for a 69. Of course, since she was a measly 4 foot 8 and Stein was 6 foot 10, it made it near impossible unless he wanted back and/or neck problems.

Still, she felt a spark of pleasure run down her spine when Stein managed to scrape together enough English to breath out "Fuck, Marie, you'resopping," and she moaned lowly, taking him deeper into her throat, practically half of his length engulfed in her. Were her mouth free, she knew she'd be whimpering back at him in Swedish, and her entire body cried out for some sort of release to the mounting tension she felt coiling in her belly again. Likely, the two orgasms she'd had prior had made it so much easier to wind her up. It only got worse when she heard him groan harshly, muttering out "Möchte euch schmecken," and she wanted so desperately to bring her thighs together and rub to alleviate the ache. Some German she understood, the curses and yeses, his little nicknames, and the few phrases he would always repeat without fail, that she felt so good, that he wanted to taste her, again.

Fuck, he couldn't do that to her, tell her that he wanted to bury his face between her thighs and lick her clean once more. It made her remember that he already had. Had done so until she'd climaxed on his tongue, had moaned into her, so aroused just from bringing her pleasure. She was barely keeping her head on straight as it was. When she felt one of his hands leave her ass, trailing downward, she couldn't help but make a painfully eager noise, no doubt intensifying his pleasure, as well. Not only from the vibrations of her throat as she brought him deeper deeper deeper into her, but also just knowing how much he was affecting her.

She felt him trail a finger between her lips, starting at her drenched opening, already wet from what he'd done to her prior, and only getting wetter, before slowly moving up to her clit. It felt so good that she strained to lean into his touch, rutting against his hand, asking for sweet mercy. Her entire soul screamed yes when he trailed back to where she was dripping before he brought a finger back inside her, catching the swollen spot in the front of her walls. The moan she gave off was loud, even being completely muffled by his cock in her throat. She had relaxed to the point where she had lowered her head down considerably, aided by the natural curve of him. She had barely even noticed the gentle rocking he'd started into her as she bobbed her head up and down, sloppily sucking on the head whenever she managed to move him out far enough before taking him in a slick slide deep into her. And, now, he was in her in two places, moving his finger and his cock in and out of her.

It was only the resonance that gave her any kind of communication save for the way her body was ceaselessly meeting each of his motions, but he could tell she wanted more, and Stein was too damn lost in his own pleasure to play his teasing act, sliding a second finger into her, thrusting them roughly and mercilessly tapping them over her G-spot. She felt his thumb come over her clit, rubbing harsh, swift circles against it, and her thighs and calves twitched.

Stein was palming her ass even more, now, and she had taken him in so far that there was no room for her hand to pump him, anymore. Instead, her lips met her fist and she could only twist it around at the base of him, her other hand palming his balls, bringing the pad of her thumb to the sensitive skin right behind them and rubbing. He had given up any semblance of control, now, and she barely even had to bob her head, anymore. Instead, he was thrusting down her throat, his speech turned to a babble of half-cut off, stuttered German she could barely make out and her name, the "Marie," chanted so consistently that, after a moment, it was the only thing he could say.

She couldn't help but grind against his hand, viciously thrusting her body down on him, but it wasn't enough and he knew it, and when he said her name, again, the "Marie," so low and ragged that she barely had it in her to keep her legs spread, she felt his hand leave the plush of her ass to grab her hair, instead. It was all the warning she got before he pulled his fingers out of her and the entirety of her wailed out in frustration. She wanted to tell him to keep going, but almost the entirety of his length was down her throat, or, rather, it was, before he'd pulled on her hair and moved himself a few inches out of her.

"S-stop. Marie, stop," he managed to gasp out, and Marie lifted her head with a gasp, breathing hard through her nose.

"Franken?" she asked, her voice hoarse before she felt him move her, wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her as he sat up. His mouth came to her shoulder immediately, kissing across until he got to her neck, biting down and sucking hard as he brought his other hand back to her sopping sex and stroked her once more, leaving her to buck.

"I want to take you," he muttered, repeating the phrases over and over as he left a trail of hickies up to her jaw, and she cried out as she grasped his arm for leverage, the other reaching down and under her to grasp his cock.

Marie whimpered, tossing her head back and over his shoulder, her hair spilling down his back. "Yes. Yes, please. God. God, please," she babbled, shifting from her spot on top of him as her eye closed once more and she settled more comfortably on her knees, lifting herself and pressing him against her opening, waiting until he hummed out an affirmation before she lowered herself down. They came together in one, seamless slide, and he kissed over her jaw, clumsily placing his lips over her chin before he connected their mouths, the cushion of her pout still wet.

Almost frantically, he rubbed her, bouncing her atop him, and Marie went boneless in his grasp, letting him thrust and grind into her as she reached up to fist his hair, her chest straining forward as he moved his arm from around her waist so he could cup one breast and then the other, rolling her nipples between his fingers.

Marie pulled away from their kiss with a harsh cry, throwing her head back once more and burying her face against the crook of his neck and shoulder. She left soft but fevered kisses all over his neck and the underside of his jaw, peppering them between her praises. "Fuck, you- feel so- oh god- right there- so good- you're so- so good- fuck- Frank-Franken!"

But as amazing as she felt, he wanted to look at her face, and he lifted her off of him without warning, hearing her practically sob in frustration before he moved away from under her and let her fall to the mattress, only taking the barest of moments to settle between her legs and grasp himself so he could slide back into her. Marie wailed at the new position, wrapping her legs around him and grabbing his hair for leverage, her moan pitching up when he resumed the pace he had, prior, grinding and rolling his hips.

This time, facing her, the curve of his cock ran over the front of her walls effortlessly, and he felt her thighs spasm around him as she lifted her knees higher on his torso, opening herself to him, her head tossing back and forth. He brought one hand back down to rub her as the other cupped her cheek, directing her gaze back to him.

"Eyes-eyes on me, Marie," he choked out, and Marie's singular amber orb locked onto him, her pupil engulfing almost all of the gold as he desperately moved in her and she met his thrusts with equal fervor.

"I love you so much," Marie moaned out, her lips popped open, darkened and swollen from their kissing and all too inviting for him to resist. The image of her glancing up at him, lips stretched around his cock assaulted his mind and he almost threw his head back, nearly finishing right then and there. One of Marie's hands left his hair to grab his shoulder, her nails digging in before she dragged them down his back, just trying to find something to ground her as she felt her orgasm looming, huge and threatening to rob her of all sense. And the pain of her nails brought a pinprick of clarity, his entire body electric from toes to crown. He bowed his head to kiss Marie in between his uttering of her name, and she replied with a flurry of near nonsense.

He didn't know how she was still threading sentences together; he had long since been unable to say anything more than her name. But she called out "Harder!" biting at his lip, and he lengthened his thrusts, the hand that had been cupping her cheek coming to the headboard as he mustered all his energy and gave her what she wanted. Marie threw her head back for a moment before she managed to open her eye and connect their gazes once more, and he felt her throb around him as she clutched him to her, staring into his eyes.

"O-oh- I- Oh- Oh Frank- Franken- I- fuck- fuck I love you- I lo- I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou-!" she managed to spill out, and her breasts bounced with each thrust, her soul swelling and swelling in her chest as their resonance brought sparks to the air and electricity beneath his skin.

He brought himself deep into her, curling his body over hers, wanting to be skin to skin everywhere as their souls linked up, engulfing each other. He downright whimpered when he felt her clench, barely holding on to his sense of self as he savagely thrust into her, rubbing her hard even though his wrist was aching. Barely thinking, he gently pinched her clit, listening in to Marie's keen, her "I love you"s all blending together into one final call of his name, his only warning before she jerked in his grasp and he felt her gush, squirting over his hips and thighs as she came with a sobbing cry.

Through their resonance, he felt her pleasure spark through him until what he was feeling and what she was feeling was the same, the same pleasure, the same overwhelming adoration, and then he was following her, calling her name so loudly she could probably feel the vibrations of it shudder through her. He turned his head, trying to find her mouth, bumping their noses before he kissed her, hard. The hand that was playing with her breasts, prior, reached up to cup the back of her head, his fingers trailing through her hair as he shuddered, holding her close as they both worked through their orgasms.

His arms were like steel, clutching her to him so tightly it was like he was trying to mold their bodies to each other, and their souls cracked open, everything almost overwhelmingly bright as they twined together in every way. Marie was still gasping when he managed to find some kind of clarity, his head still mostly dazed as he choked on the very air, his knees shaking with the effort of keeping himself from collapsing atop her.

He did, however, let his forehead settle over Marie's shoulder, pressing a kiss to the skin, hunching so he could leave gentle, loving kisses over the tops of her breasts, her neck, the dip of her collarbones, helping her wind down. When she was completely limp, relaxed entirely, he moved to pull out of her, only to be stopped by her hand on his hip.

"Not…yet," she told him, stroking over his shoulders and sinking into the comfort of the mattress and his hands. He bit his lip, nodding before he kissed her cheek, catching his breath. Marie smiled up at him, radiant, the very definition of such. "You're so good," she told him, nuzzling against his jaw, humming happily.

He grinned back at her, pressing his cheek against hers and catching a glance at the clock she'd set up on their nightstand as a result.

Upon seeing the numbers, well past noon, he groaned, assuming Marie would rush them so they could run into class several hours late.

"Marie," he started, rubbing his thumb over her lower lip, "it's noon."

"I don't care," she told him, tiredly. "Just hold me."

"We have class," he replied, knowing how faithful she was to showing up every day.

"Fuck class."

He couldn't help but lift his brows at that one before a chuckle bubbled out of him. He must have done a good job, then. He shifted so he hovered over her, kissing over her face once more and breaking up each word of his sentence with a well placed smooch. "My wife doesn't appreciate infidelity."

Marie couldn't help but giggle, carding a hand through his hair and meeting his kisses. "You're lucky your wife loves you," she told him, rubbing over his side. "That one was terrible."

"Ah, I get it from you," he said, echoing what she'd told him earlier, and she laughed harder, the giggles sweet and refreshing as their souls remained linked, his expression so happy and unconcerned, so stress-free, that she could feel little else but joy.

"Yeah," she relented, grinning hard as he cuddled her. "I guess you do."

* * *

 **I had no other way to summarize this except that it's filthy, very explicit porn. Not sorry.**

 **Also, if anyone is keeping up with this, which I doubt y'all are, this counts for like. . .5 prompts.**

 **That's #5: Blowjob, #11: Dom/sub, #12: Fingering, #14: 69, and #18: Morning lazy sex (though, there's NOTHING lazy about this sex, lmao).**

 **Thank you for reading!**


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